The Different Shades of Grey
by Boogum
Summary: He was as black as she had painted him: cruel, heartless and deserving of hatred. Then circumstances began to change and what was previously black and white became a confusing muddle of grey, forcing her to question her heart and her loyalties.
1. The Swan Loses Her Wings

**Generic disclaimer applies.**

**Warning: Adult themes, graphic violence, some sexual references.**

**The Swan Loses Her Wings**

A woman dressed in a black cloak walked up the slope of a craggy hillside, her steps fast and purposeful, and her head bowed as if in silent prayer. She clutched a dimly lit lantern in one hand, allowing the shadows of decaying trees and twisted plants to chase along beside her in a frenzied dance. Not once did she look up to see what shadowy companions had decided to follow her; she just continued in her stooped over walk, moving as silent as the dead trees that surrounded her, which had long ago lost their rustling leaves.

The night seemed to let out a mournful sigh, brushing the hood off the woman's face with a small gust of wind and tugging insistently at her cloak. Strands of golden-blonde hair slipped out and caressed her pale, surprisingly youthful face, and only then did she pause in her hasty walk to pull the hood back up to cover herself. Her eyes, shadowed by the hood, peered out into the thick darkness with wary intent, but everything remained just as still and silent as before. The world was not disturbed by the revelation of her face, and feeling comforted that she was safe for now, the woman continued to walk up the steep slope, though this time with more urgency in her step.

A few stars watched her progress in melancholic silence, but the unhelpful moon had enough of bearing light to such an ugly world and hid his face beneath a blanket of clouds. The darkness suddenly became smothering in its intensity, and the woman hastened her step at the frightening prospect of being left in such a barren wasteland with only the feeble light of her lantern to aid her vision.

"Almost there," she whispered, more to break the terrible silence than to gain any reassurance of how far she had yet to go.

And then she heard it. The sound that she had been dreading to hear. Someone was running towards her.

Her heart froze in panic. She quickly extinguished her light and started running blindly into the darkness, inwardly praying that she was not running straight into her hunter. A dead tree branch snagged at her cloak, abruptly pulling her to a halt as the cloak tightened around her throat and choked what little breath she had left. She gasped in pain, her fingers fumbling in fear as she frantically scrambled to undo the clasp so that she could free herself.

She could still hear the horrible footsteps crunching towards her and felt her eyes burn with tears. "Oh, please! Oh Merlin, please!" she muttered fearfully, still trying to free herself from the branch's hold.

Finally, the clasp broke free. She quickly threw the heavy cloak off her shoulders and continued running, the heavy footsteps of her hunter now sounding sickeningly loud to her ears. Her breath constricted painfully in her chest and her heart felt like it was about to explode from the sheer pressure of pumping her blood. Something sharp flashed past her face, just grazing her cheek to, allow warm, sticky blood to ooze out onto her pale skin. She clenched her teeth to stop herself from screaming, terrified least she should give her exact position away. She knew that her hunter was close behind her, judging by the knife that he had just thrown. She could not afford to take risks now.

A cold laugh pierced through the night, magnifying from within the darkness until it was as if several men were laughing. She hesitated in her steps, unsure what was happening, and then the laughs grew louder, echoing in an unholy throng as they closed in on her. Now she realised why she had not been able to escape the footsteps. There was more than one man following her, and it was with sickly dread that she realised she had been surrounded.

She stopped running and gripped her unlit lantern in her clammy hand, wondering what she could do now. She was no fighter and never had been, but her options were wearing thin.

Torches burst to life around her, illuminating the grizzled features of her hunters with an ominous light. She could see the lust for murder written on their faces and felt her heart give out in defeat. This was the end. She was going to die.

A man walked forward, clutching a thick rope in his hand. "Let's see if your magic will save you from this one," he taunted gleefully.

One of his companions descended on her and grabbed her roughly by her arms, pinning her against his chest.

"Please don't kill me," she begged. "I'm not a witch, I'm a herbalist in the village."

"Lies! I saw you creating those satanic potions in your house! You were going to poison us!"

"No!" she cried desperately. "I swear it was nothing!"

The man with the rope smiled. "We'll soon see. If you really aren't a witch, God will protect you and you won't die."

Her eyes widened in fear as she realised what was about to happen. She begged him to have mercy, tears now freely spilling down her cheeks, but the man ignored her and placed the noose around her neck, pulling it tight. She gasped for air and was suddenly yanked forward to one of the dead trees. The expanse of remaining rope was tossed over one of the higher branches and held firmly by a man on the other side of the tree.

The assembled group had already begun the frenzied cry to kill the witch, and the woman suddenly found herself being hauled off her feet as the man holding her rope moved away from the tree, dragging her higher towards the branch from which she was suspended. She struggled to break free from the rope that was slowly and painfully strangling her, but that seemed to only make things worse. Soon, all thought started to slip from her mind as the cold blackness of death crept into her heart with each failed breath that she took.

The men below laughed and hooted with twisted glee while the sky above grew increasingly darker, leaving only the flames of the torches circling the dying woman for light. Suddenly, a man dressed in a green cloak appeared out of thin air, holding a thin piece of wood in his right hand. The celebrating men paused in their fanatical shouts and stared at the newcomer in stunned horror—the man holding the rope absently letting it go and sending the hanged woman to the ground with a heavy thud.

The cloaked figure's eyes took in the hanged girl and then shifted back to the men, narrowing in pure hatred.

"IT'S A DEMON!" one of the men shouted. "RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"

The cloaked man snarled and started shooting powerful bursts of green light from the piece of wood in his hand. Every time the light connected with one of the men that same man would fall down dead, much to the surprise and horror of the others. They had no hope to escape, and soon it was just the cloaked man standing upright, grim satisfaction shining in his eyes as he stared at the bodies that surrounded him.

He knelt down beside the still form of the young woman and stared into her face. He couldn't help but recoil at the sight that greeted him. Her once beautiful features were now grotesque to look upon, deformed with the markings of the hanged. Tears crept into his eyes, and he shakily reached out and touched her pale cheek. Her eyelids fluttered in response. Hope surged through his chest, and suddenly he was clutching her limp body close to his chest.

"Katherine! My sweet Katherine!" the man cried, burying his face close to hers. "It's me—Salazar. Please, speak to me!"

Her head lolled back sickeningly, and it was then that he noticed the glassy texture to her eyes. He was too late. She was already dead.

The hollowness that descended over him was as bleak as the very world surrounding him. He felt dead—as dead as the twisted, gnarled tree that had helped kill her, but there was anger too.

He placed her body back on the ground and stood up as he clenched his hands into fists. It was those disgusting Muggles' fault. They were so jealous of magic, so frightened in their pathetic little way, and now they had killed his only love – a Squib, nonetheless, who could never have protected herself against their cruel attack.

"I'll kill them all," Salazar whispered fiercely to the dark night. "I'll kill every last one of them, and the Mudbloods that share their blood. They have made me suffer, but I shall make them suffer tenfold!"

Salazar clutched his wand tightly and glared through the night, his green eyes gleaming like the deadly glow of the killing curse. He would have his revenge, even if it never happened in his own lifetime. He would make sure of it.

"There will be no rest for those of dirty blood…"

**OOOO**

"Ginny! Ginny, wake up!"

Ginny opened her eyes dazedly and groaned as her body suddenly realised all of its aches and pains. Ron was leaning over her, a concerned expression on his face. His long nose was burnt pink in the sun and premature wrinkles were already gathering at his eyes. No more was her brother that smiling, carefree boy. Too much had happened. Too much had happened to everyone.

She sat up from the dusty ground, wincing as a sharp pain shot through the back of her head, and tentatively placed her fingers where a bruise now throbbed. "What happened?" she asked faintly, still probing the delicate flesh.

"You collapsed," Ron answered while holding out a rough, war-worn hand to help her up.

She accepted his help and was pulled to her feet. Her legs wobbled in protest, but she quickly regained the strength to stand, even if she still felt somewhat shaken. It was not the first time she had collapsed that week, and the thought that something might be wrong with her niggled at her brain. Her brother seemed to have the same idea and asked if he should get Madam Pomfrey.

Ginny shook her head. "I'll be fine. Really," she added, seeing Ron's disbelieving expression. "It's probably just exhaustion. We've been fighting for years now." She gave a tired smile. "I think I just need a break from it all."

"Yeah," Ron breathed out with a sigh, his expression once more descending into its normal gloomy sadness. "The war could have ended long ago if I hadn't—"

He broke off, sighing heavily again as he shook his head in disappointment.

"It's not your fault Harry was hit, Ron," Ginny said quietly. "No one could have predicted that would happen."

"I was right there, Ginny!" her brother exclaimed heatedly, throwing a hand out towards the dusty distance as if gesturing to some unseen battle only he could see. "I saw the curse hit him! I watched him fall, and I did nothing to stop it!"

"You couldn't have stopped it. This is Voldemort we're talking about."

"Yeah, well now the only person who could have stopped this war is an inch from death thanks to that curse."

Ginny bit her lip, unsure what to say. Ron looked away from her, clenching his hands tightly into fists and kicked at a stray rock. He still carried so much bitterness. It was almost painful to see the guilt manifesting itself on the hard lines of his face. She did not blame her brother for what had happened, but he could never forgive himself for not doing anything to stop the curse that had hit his best friend during the supposed Final Battle. She wished he could understand that Harry would have never blamed him. Harry would have understood. He always had.

She hesitantly touched her brother's arm. "We may pull through yet, Ron. Just have faith."

Ron laughed hollowly. "It's been four years, Ginny. Nothing is going to change. Our world is going to continue being a wasteland. Just look at the people around you – look at all the broken smiles and shattered dreams. We have no hope. We have nothing but this rotten camp with all its rotten, dying people."

Her heart clenched in pain. "It doesn't have to be this way. Harry will come back to us."

He simply shook his head and walked away into the distance, his shoulders hunched forward and his feet scuffing at the dirty ground. He did not believe that Harry would come back. No one seemed to believe that Harry would come back.

She turned her face to stare at a frayed tent swaying forlornly in the wind. It was brown and ugly, like everything in the camp, but it drew her to it now with unparalleled magnetism. She stopped outside its flapping door, sucking in a deep breath that did little to comfort her, and then she entered the tent. Inside were a few healing odds and ends littered about on makeshift cabinets, but it was the man lying in the bed that caught her attention. His black hair hung limply around his pale, sunken face, and she could see the vivid outline of the lightning bolt scar etched into his forehead.

Ginny sighed softly. He was like a skeleton, and Ron was right: he _was_ inches from death. But no one knew how to help him. He had been cursed with a spell that Voldemort himself had created. They had tried everything they could to heal him, but it was all to no avail. He was dying, and there was nothing that they could do about it.

She sat down on the rickety chair and reached out her hand to gently smooth the hair away from his face. A stinging sensation prickled at her eyes, and then she felt a tear roll down her cheek to be followed by another and then another.

"Harry," she whispered. "Please, come back to me. I can't live like this any more."

Harry remained just as still and silent as ever. It really was as if he were dead for all the movement he made.

Ginny couldn't take it any more. She couldn't take staring at his wasted face each day, knowing that the man she had promised so much to was slowly dying.

"_So you're going away again?" Ginny asked while staring out towards the distance where a bloody battle had just been fought. _

_She didn't need to turn to know that it was Harry standing behind her, and, truth be told, she was afraid of what she would see on his face if she did. He had already let her go before; she did not want him to let her go again, though she knew that she would never be able to tell him so. This was his battle, and she was resigned to be the pretty maiden waiting for her prince to come home from slaying dragons. _

"_I have to go, Ginny," Harry said in what he must have thought was a comforting voice, but only made her heart break that little bit more. "You understand, don't you?" _

_Ginny blinked back the tears that threatened to escape and turned to Harry, giving him a brave nod. _

"_I understand. You're the only one who can end this." _

_Harry seemed to sense that she was not happy and grasped her hand in his as he looked searchingly into her eyes. _

"_Ginny, when this war is over we'll be together. It will just be you and me. I promise." _

_The redhead looked down at the makeshift engagement ring on her finger and smiled slightly. Her eyes flicked back to his, a more reassured expression on her face. _

"_I know, Harry. Just come back to me." _

_Harry smiled and kissed her lightly on the lips, leaning his forehead against her own as he broke away. _

"_Don't worry. I will." _

"But the war never ended," Ginny said bitterly as she clutched the ring around her neck, which was now hanging on a silver chain, "and I'm still waiting for you to come back to me."

The tent door opened and Madam Pomfrey walked in with a basket of medicines clutched in her ample arms.

"Oh, I didn't know you were in here, dear."

Ginny quickly wiped the tears from her eyes and stood up, hoping that Madam Pomfrey had not heard anything.

"I was just checking on him," the redhead explained agitatedly. "You're going to administer the medicine now?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded and then proceeded to give Harry the medicine that never seemed to work.

"It's getting harder to get medicines with the Death Eaters swarming everywhere," the matronly woman sighed. "Did you know that the wastelands were attacked again last week? As if those poor people haven't been through enough."

"I can't believe that people still live there," Ginny mused aloud, momentarily forgetting her own problems. "London was destroyed two years ago. Why cling to a barren land that is no better than a pile of dust and ruins?"

"Maybe it's because they have nowhere else to go. Or maybe it's just because, no matter how bad things get, that place is still their home."

Ginny shrugged and looked down at her hands. "Maybe."

Madam Pomfrey smiled and then picked up her basket again.

"Well, I'm off to do the rounds. The poor Muggles are being attacked left, right and centre, and there's only so much I can do."

"I'll help too."

The Healer nodded gratefully, and both she and Ginny left the tent to head towards the rather crude hospital that graced their campsite. There was no point in building anything long-lasting in this day and age. The secrecy of the magical folk had been broken just months after the Final Battle, and then Muggle and wizard alike had sought refuge from the growing war. This camp was one of the few safeguards left in Britain, but even that could not protect the people from everything. The constant threat of Death Eaters made people wary to go anywhere alone, and every now and then a raid would occur, forcing the whole camp to pack up and relocate to a safer position.

This was a world of fear and bitterness, just as Voldemort had always wanted. Guards stood at the outskirts of the campsite, always watchful for a sign of an attack, while the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix patrolled the camp itself. People fought over food, water and medicine, and even the smiles and laughter of innocent children had been quickly stifled with the arrival of a problem far more sinister than a mere lack of supplies. A strange disease seemed to be spreading through the refugee camps, killing off Muggles one by one, and no cure could be found.

"Old Mrs Jenkins has caught the virus," Madam Pomfrey commented as they headed towards the healing tent. "We moved her in today."

Ginny pulled back the tent door and stared at the hundreds of beds set up in rows from one end to the other where women, men and children lay dying – most of them Muggles who had caught the elusive disease. There were already a few medic-wizards and witches in the tent, and Madam Pomfrey and Ginny moved to take their own row of beds, both well accustomed to the routine now.

Ginny stopped beside a raven-haired woman, forcing a warm smile to her lips as she always did when greeting her patients. "How are you feeling, Elise?"

Elise turned her face towards the redhead and stared up at her through eyes chilled with disease.

"I…I feel strange. It's like my body is on fire."

Ginny frowned and touched the woman's forehead. "You have a temperature. I'm sure a cooling charm will help."

The dark-haired woman shook her head and grasped Ginny's hand with her own clammy one. "My daughter—Is she okay? Have you seen her?"

"Isabelle is doing fine. She will grow up to be a fine witch."

Elise smiled weakly. "I'm so glad I met you, Ginevra. I would never have understood how special my daughter was otherwise." Unchecked tears slipped down her cheeks. "Please, tell her I love her."

"You can tell her yourself, if you like. I can bring her in to you."

"No. I don't want her to see me this way."

Elise suddenly froze, and Ginny saw what little colour the woman had left drain from her face.

"Ginevra … I feel so strange," the dark-haired woman whispered. "It feels like I'm floating away, only I don't want to. Can't you stop me from going? Can't you tell them to give me a bit longer?"

Ginny held back a sob and shook her head. "I can't do that for you, Elise. I'm sorry."

The raven-haired woman stared at her in frightened silence, and then the hand that had been holding Ginny's dropped to the bed with a soft thud. Elise no longer stared at her: death had claimed the spirit that had once infused life in those now hollow depths.

"I'm sorry," Ginny whispered.

She pulled the sheet up over the woman's face to hide the expression of death that was quickly imprinting itself in her mind. She noticed Madam Pomfrey staring at her in concern and quickly looked away to hide her tears.

"Are you all right?" Madam Pomfrey asked, coming to stand beside her.

"I just don't understand," Ginny exclaimed bitterly. "Why is it that I am still here while people like Elise, who are so innocent, are killed? I'm the one who has hurt people in the war. I should be the one dying – not them."

"The innocent are always the ones to die, Ginny. Don't worry, we shall find a cure for this."

Ginny wiped a tear angrily from her eyes. "How long will that take? How many more children will become orphans? How many more parents will lose their children, their wives, their husbands? Those of Muggle blood are being wiped out. I just can't sit here and watch them die!"

Madam Pomfrey gripped Ginny firmly by the shoulders and looked at her through grim eyes.

"Look at me, Ginevra. You have a great gift inside you. You were blessed with magic and have the ability to heal. If you give up now, who will help all of these people?"

"I—I just feel so helpless."

"I understand, but right now all we can do is help ease their passing until a cure is found. Have faith, child, and all will be well."

Ginny sighed and nodded, if a little reluctantly. Wasn't that almost the same advice she had given Ron earlier? Sure, it was easy to tell someone to have hope, but to actually live that way herself was so much harder.

"I'll try."

Madam Pomfrey stared at Ginny with a critical healer's eye. "Hmm, maybe you've been working too hard. Why don't you go take some food to the soldiers?"

Ginny nodded again, relieved to get away from all the death and misery of the tent.

"Okay."

She quickly gathered the precious food from the ration's table and then headed towards the Fort, as they called it, but it was really more a shack where the soldiers ate their meals and slept.

Ginny knocked on the wooden door and entered. She smiled as she saw Remus Lupin sitting on a frayed chair with a cup of cocoa in his hands. He waved kindly at her with his free hand.

"Haven't seen you in a while, Ginny."

"I've been busy with healing duties."

"You look worn out," Remus observed and pulled out a seat for her with his foot. "Care to have a chat with an old wolf for a while?"

Ginny smiled, grateful for his cheerfulness, and took the proffered seat.

"How's guard duty coming along?"

"So far it's been quiet," Remus replied. "Too quiet, if you ask me. We saw some scouts here last month, but so far nothing has happened to cause alarm."

"Maybe they weren't scouts?"

"They were scouts, all right. We recognised one of them. Does the name Draco Malfoy ring a bell?"

She nodded. He was one of the most prominent Death Eaters and had become Voldemort's right-hand man after his father's death three years ago. The Dark Lord had forgiven the young Malfoy for his past mistakes after recognising his tactical abilities. He had been impressed by how smoothly the operation had gone at Hogwarts that night Dumbledore had been murdered, and had decided to make the young Malfoy a battle strategist for the Death Eaters. From there, Draco had continued to move to the top, and the boy who had cried in a bathroom because of his fears was quickly lost to the lust of power – or so they said.

Ginny knew all of this information because she had been a fighter for the rebels. That is, until two years ago when her brother Charlie had died in her arms. He had been injured, and she had been forced to watch as he slowly faded away, helpless with her own lack of knowledge. It was at that point that she had decided to become a healer so that she would never have to experience such a feeling of helplessness again.

"Ginny?"

"Sorry," the redhead replied, breaking from her bitter memories. "I spaced out."

The door burst open and a young wizard came running inside, his eyes wild with fear.

"Remus, we're under attack! The Death Eaters are here!"

Ginny and Remus exchanged startled glances, and then Remus was pulling on his coat, wand in hand.

"You coming?"

The redhead nodded and followed the men outside. Jets of red and green flashed through the dull skies as those from the camp fought ferociously against the swarm of masked figures that oozed in like a deadly plague.

"They're coming from the other side!" Tonks yelled while valiantly fighting two Death Eaters at once. "We're going to be surrounded if we don't do something!"

Ginny ducked and stumbled over a dead body, sending her flailing to the ground and puncturing her leg on a particularly jagged piece of rock. No one noticed her fall – they had already moved on to front the attack against the Death Eaters. Blood blossomed under her fingers as she clutched her leg in pain, and she realised with some trepidation that she was now injured and alone. To make matters worse, she was right next to the edge of the campsite where the shimmering barrier that protected them had been breached.

A Death Eater passed through the barrier and walked purposely towards her. She scrambled to her feet, wincing at the sudden pain that shot through her leg, and clutched her wand in her sweaty hand. Silver eyes met hers calmly through the slits of the nightmarish mask.

"Long time no see, Weasley," a cool voice said amiably.

"Malfoy," Ginny growled, clenching her wand even tighter.

"Come, come, that's no way to treat an old school friend," he mocked while circling her in a predatory fashion.

"Old friend? As if!" Ginny spat boldly, though her heart pounded in fear as she watched his lazy movements.

He seemed too much at ease for her comfort, and she knew full well that her fighting skills were rusty from dedicating her time to being a healer. She also knew that Draco Malfoy was not the weakling that she had once thought him. He had made quite the name for himself on the battlefields, and it was not for anything good.

"Still as feisty as ever, I see," the blond observed with a laugh that sent a chill up her spine.

A purple light suddenly flared up from further down in the campsite, and she saw a satisfied smile creep into the cold grey eyes that had been watching her.

"Perfect," he muttered as he turned his attention back to her. "Now we can play."

He aimed his wand at her face and, without warning, shot a strange spell towards her that seemed to consist entirely of white mist. Ginny screamed at her brain to move, but her legs remained frozen to the ground. It was like some terrible dream, and yet she knew that this was as real as the pain still throbbing in her leg.

"GINNY!"

Ginny blinked in surprise and suddenly found herself being hauled roughly out of the curse's path, the heat of the magic just brushing against her face. She glanced up to see Ron glaring down at her.

"What are you doing just standing there like that?" he demanded, releasing her in frustration. "You could have been killed!"

"Ron! Look out!" Ginny cried, instinctively pushing him out of the way as she saw another jet of white mist coming towards them.

The spell hit her square in the chest, sending her falling to the ground from the impact in a sickening rush. She could hear Malfoy's triumphant yell and Ron screaming her name, but she found that all she could do was stare dizzily up at the grey sky above her that was now swarming with black dots.

Her fingers clasped around the ring at her neck. She thought she saw a figure falling in front of her, but then her eyes clouded over and she was swirling into darkness.

**OOOO**

Ginny opened her eyes and squinted at the sudden light that filled her vision. She sat up dizzily and held a hand to her throbbing head, feeling a horrible sense of déjà vu. It seemed like only a few hours ago that she had done just the same.

Her eyes darted about the room she was in, and she noticed that it was not a tent like she had been expecting to see, but a fully furbished room – complete with a mouldy dresser, a wooden stool, and a chamber pot that reeked of human waste. Even the bed that she was lying on stunk of stale sweat and a strange scent of which Ginny was quite certain she did not want to know the cause. It didn't take a genius to figure out why there were scratch marks in the wall where nails had run down in sheer pain and desperation.

Sticky fear crept over her skin, creating a sheen of cold sweat on her body. She pushed herself off the sordidly stained bed and walked towards the door, trying to ignore the way her body swayed dangerously. It seemed that she had still not recovered from being hit with Malfoy's curse.

She turned the door handle, but the door remained stubbornly closed. Furious, and frightened at the same time, she tugged desperately at the door. It refused to budge and seemed to mock her with its battered wooden frame. Ginny groaned in frustration and looked through her robe pockets for her wand. Her hands scrabbled over thin material. Her wand was gone.

"I'm trapped," she muttered, staring at the locked and probably magically sealed door in angry defeat.

She sighed and walked back to the bed where she collapsed on it in exhaustion. She tried not to think about how dirty the sheets felt against her skin or how bad the room smelt. It would not do to dwell on what had happened in this room.

The throbbing in her head had still not ceased, but it was the overwhelming dizziness which threatened to steal her consciousness again that really bothered her. She realised that there was no point in trying to struggle right now, for she had no strength at all and had already wasted too much precious energy just trying to open the door. She would just wait until her captor revealed his or herself to her and told her what was going on.

Ginny's brow creased into a frown as she lay on the bed. What had happened before she had fallen unconscious, anyway? Surely that would tell her why she was here? She vaguely remembered talking with Remus Lupin in the Fort when the Death Eaters had suddenly started attacking the camp. Everybody had been running or fighting, and then she had fallen to the ground and hurt her leg. That was when Malfoy had showed up.

Ginny clenched her fists at the thought of Malfoy, remembering the way his cold eyes had lit up with pleasure at the thought of being able to hurt her. Ron had stopped him from hitting her with his curse the first time, but what had happened then?

It was all so confusing. She vaguely remembered seeing someone fall in front of her, but she was not sure who. What she did know, however, was that she had been hit by some kind of curse, and so far it seemed to have only shaken her body but had not caused any real physical damage.

The door opened. Ginny's eyes quickly darted to the opening, and she stared at the tall, muscular man who entered, noticing his mean eyes and leering smile. She unconsciously shivered, knowing that his hungry expression was not for food. He closed the door behind him and walked towards her. She sat up stiffly, not wanting to face him in such a helpless position.

"Well, well," the man said in a gruff voice which grated on Ginny's ears. "Looks like you're finally awake."

Ginny felt much like an animal caught in a cage. He was still watching her with that horrible greedy expression, and it made her feel sick to her stomach to think about what disgusting thoughts were going through his mind.

"You've been unconscious for nearly two days now. I was getting worried," the man continued with a small laugh. "I wanted to have some fun with you before our leader came back." His eyes misted over with a scowl. "He never lets us have our fun."

Ginny stiffened at his words. If looks could kill, this man would have died instantly, but he merely laughed at her fury and then walked even closer towards her, reaching out one grubby hand to cup her face in his strong fingers. She knew she was too weak to resist him and could only sit there in horror as the man leered down at her through his beady little eyes.

"You're better looking than the others we've had," he commented in a low, excited voice. "I know I'm going to enjoy this."

He grabbed her roughly by her shoulders, and she let out a frightened shriek as he pushed her down onto the bed, his large hands holding her pinned underneath him. She struggled as best as she could, knowing what he was going to do, but she just felt too weak. Already she could feel her mind buzzing in protest at the energy she was using.

Desperation seemed to give her strength, and she bit down on his arm as she thrashed underneath him. He let out a yelp and slapped her hard in the face. Her head swung back against the bed with such force that she almost passed out. Dazed and in pain, she lay there helplessly as he ripped her robe open and tore at her under garments so that her bare flesh was suddenly attacked by the cold air, sending goosebumps prickling up her skin. He gave a lustful laugh and started running his hands over her body, and she sucked in a sharp breath as his hands travelled in places that no man's hands were allowed to go – places where even Harry had dared not touch her.

Ginny was crying bitterly now. She once again tried to struggle against his hold, but he just pinned her down with his body and pushed her thighs apart while his other hand fumbled with his own robe. She squirmed under his bulk, weakly trying to push his hands away from her, but it was all to no avail. This disgusting, smelly man was going to steal her innocence, the last shred of virtue she had left in this decaying world. He was just too strong and she was too weak.

The door burst open, and with a few quick strides someone had yanked the man off Ginny with surprising ferocity. She stared up at her saviour, half-terrified, half-relieved. Cold grey eyes that had not so long ago stared at her through the slits of a black mask now glanced at her briefly before they turned to the man cursing furiously on the floor.

"Get up, you disgusting pig," Draco Malfoy spat in a chilling voice, his fury so evident that Ginny almost shuddered herself.

The bulky man sat up and glared at the blond through his mean little eyes. "What's this all about, aye? I'm allowed to do what I like to her."

Draco's mouth curled into a snarl and he reached down and snatched the man by the throat, his cold eyes narrowing with intense dislike. Though Draco was only twenty-one at the most, there was no question in who was ruling the show here.

"I thought I specifically told you not to touch her," the blond growled dangerously. "She is in my care until the Dark Lord tells me what to do with her, which means that you are not to go near her."

The man's eyes flickered with fear as his face went slightly purple from the lack of oxygen getting to his brain. He nodded to show that he understood. Draco released the man's throat, letting him collapse back to the ground. The man, still gasping for breath, quickly stood up and started massaging his bruised windpipe.

"Forgive me, sir," the man apologised greasily, though his eyes still lingered with malevolence. "It will not happen again."

Draco laughed softly. The sound made the hair on Ginny's neck rise.

"No, Baldren, you will not be making the same mistake again, for if you do, I will personally show you what I do to those who displease me. Do I make myself clear?"

Baldren nodded and shot a final dark glance at Ginny before he left the room. Draco watched the door shut and then turned his chilling eyes on her.

"Cover yourself up unless you want to prove what a whore you are," he ordered scathingly, his eyes briefly passing over her exposed body.

Ginny swallowed and clutched the ripped robe in her hands to cover her nakedness. She stared up at him through fearful eyes, wondering what he was going to do to her. She had no fear that he would try and rape her, but she was not stupid enough to think that he would be kind to her either.

"W-what do you want with me?" she stammered as her eyes burned with unconscious tears.

Draco laughed his soft laugh and walked towards her. He reached out with his hand to grasp her chin in a hard grip, forcing her face towards his so that she had no choice but to look into his pitiless eyes.

"Don't cry, Ginevra," he taunted, the use of her name only making his words seem even more sinister. "I'm not going to rape you like Baldren tried to. In fact—" he lowered his voice so that it became twistingly soothing "—I don't want anything from you at all, but it seems my master has plans for you. You should be grateful. If I had my way, you'd be dead."

Ginny's eyes widened in fear. Draco laughed again and released her face as he stepped back.

"Don't look so upset," he mocked in his smooth voice. "At least you're not already dead like your brother."

An anguished gasp tore from her throat as she realised that could only mean Ron. She could see the amusement he was getting at her expense and felt like tearing out the cold eyes that mocked her sadness so ruthlessly. How dare he laugh at her pain?

"Y-you killed him?" Ginny demanded, voice shaking with suppressed rage.

Draco smiled cruelly. "He made a heroic job of trying to protect you, but, really, the odds were against him. After all," the blond continued as he smoothed his hair back, "what hope did a brainless oaf like that have against me?"

Her anger swallowed up any words she could have uttered. If she had a wand in her hand at that moment, she was sure that she could have cast the perfect Cruciatus Curse. She would have meant every word of it.

Draco merely smirked at her, able to guess what she was thinking, and then he walked away towards the exit.

"Don't bother trying to escape," he said casually as he opened the door. "I personally will punish you if you even attempt anything."

Ginny watched the door close behind him, leaving her once again alone in the filthy room. All of a sudden she felt like her body had broken, with all the pain inside of her bursting out from her ribcage in terrible screams. She pulled her knees closer, hugging them to her chest as she rocked backwards and forwards, desperately trying to breathe through the tears that spilled down her face. It was all becoming too much. There was no way that she could escape from this place now. She had seen it in those cold grey eyes.

Still, deep down, in amongst all her fear and pain, she also had to wonder what was left for her out there. Ron was dead, who knew who else was dead, and Harry – Ginny let out a fresh sob and clutched the ring hanging from the chain around her neck –Harry had might as well be dead for all that he could do.

Voldemort had stolen everything from her, and now he was going to steal her life too. She didn't know what he wanted from her, but she doubted that it was to give her an enjoyable time. She just wished she knew so that she didn't have to spend any longer with Draco Malfoy or the disgusting man who had tried to rape her. Death would have been far more pleasant than facing them every day.

Ginny sighed bitterly and forced her mind to not linger in such depressing thoughts. She just had to persevere and keep hold of that hope that someone would come and save her. She could not give up now, no matter how much her body longed to. She had to fight, if not for herself, than for Ron who had died trying to protect her.

**OOOO **

Draco picked up his drink, absently sliding his fingers against the cool glass as he frowned to himself. He had been surprised to walk into the room only to find Baldren trying to rape his prisoner, but that didn't explain why he had got so angry. Many of his Death Eaters did enjoy taking pleasure in the spoils of war, the female prisoners being one of them. They seemed to feel it was their 'right', and though Draco himself felt sickened by the thought of doing something so heinous, he knew that he couldn't stop the men from having their fun with the prisoners every time it happened for fear of starting a rebellion. However, this time he would not suffer it to happen, and not just because the Dark Lord had made it clear that he would be held accountable for whatever happened to the redhead. Seeing her struggle so helplessly had triggered something inside him that had slept for a long time. He wasn't sure he liked it, either.

Draco sighed and took a sip of his wine, letting the intoxicating liquid slip down his throat to dull his senses. He wondered what it was that the Dark Lord wanted with her. He didn't see anything special about her, and the sooner she was killed the better, in his opinion. He didn't particularly want to be her captor, and he had been furious when he had received the missive to capture Ginevra Weasley specifically from the camp. Still, he could at least be satisfied that he had managed to kill Ronald Weasley. That had truly been a delight to carry out.

An amused expression crept into his eyes as he remembered the way her brother had screamed in agony while he, Draco, had tortured the redhead's body into grotesque shapes until the very last scream had been released. Oh, yes, he had taken _great_ delight in that death. He was very good at torturing and prolonging suffering thanks to the tuition of his loving Aunt Bellatrix. It was a shame his father could not have been there to see him take up the family mantel. He was sure Lucius would have been proud.

Draco drained the rest of his wine and then placed the empty cup on the table. His cold eyes stared about the room, dwelling on the form of an unconscious man lying on the bed before him. He stood up and walked towards the bed, his eyes resting on the lightning bolt scar slashed across the man's forehead.

"Look what has become of you, Potter," Draco said in a soft voice. "Ironic, isn't it, that it should be you who is inches from death while I walk triumphantly along the path you detested so much."

Harry did not stir. Draco stared down at the emaciated man with a defiant expression on his face, though it did not quite hide the trouble in his eyes.

"You showed me pity once, but do not expect me to do the same for you. You should have killed me that day, but I will not make the same mistake. The ones who kill – they are the people who make things happen. Mercy is for the weak, and I am not weak."

The door opened. Draco turned to see who had intruded and glared at the cowering man standing in the doorway.

"What is it?" he snarled, annoyed that he should be disturbed when he had specifically asked not to be.

The man shifted uncomfortably, and Draco couldn't hide his amusement at seeing a fully-grown man cringe in front him. Why would he ever give up this power that allowed him to manipulate others all through fear?

"Sir, the young lady will need some clothes." The man looked at Draco hesitantly. "She also asks if she is going to be fed at all."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course she is going to be fed, you imbecile. What do you think we are going to do? The Dark Lord has made his orders very clear that we are to look after her unless she gives us a reason to punish her."

"I will go give her some clothes and food right away."

"Forget it," Draco responded impatiently as he walked past the man. "I'll do it myself. You're all a bunch of incompetent fools, and I don't trust any of you with her."

The man flushed, but Draco was not blind. He could see how the men were getting excited at having another female prisoner, but he was not going to let any of them touch her. She may be a disgusting blood traitor, but she was under his care and that meant that none of their filthy hands were to go near her.

Draco picked up some plain black robes and then made his way to the kitchens to grab some food before heading back to the room where Ginevra Weasley was being kept. He glared suspiciously at the men walking down the hallway and wondered if he should change the wards on the door to only recognise him. At least then he would not have to worry about his men trying to rape her. He decided that he would do just that and muttered an incantation as he opened the door so that it would only open to him. He then walked in and spotted Ginny sitting on the bed, her hands still clutching the torn robe together to cover her nakedness.

Draco walked towards her and placed the food down on the bedside table. He held out the robe to her, his eyes blank from all emotion. She took the robe from his hand, her fingers unwillingly brushing against his. He could see her glance at him with a sideways look, and he realised that she wanted him to turn around so that she could put the robe on. He merely stared at her coolly, his eyes showing nothing but disdain.

"Can you turn around?" the redhead asked in a clipped voice.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "It's nothing I haven't seen, Weasley."

She glared at him and stood up, her chin lifted defiantly as she let the robe fall to the ground to reveal her naked body. She never once took her furious eyes of him as she pulled the robe he had given her around her petite frame.

"Satisfied?" she asked contemptuously, now doing up the robe.

Draco couldn't help but admire her strength. She was obviously made of more than he had given her credit.

"Your food will be brought to you three times a day," he said in a smooth voice, deciding to ignore her taunt. "You have no need to fear of being poisoned, as I'm sure you have already guessed that if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already. I suggest you eat it, as you will need your strength."

Ginny said nothing and merely stared at him with undisguised loathing. He gazed back coolly, completely unfazed by her hate. He had already resigned himself to being in charge of her, and now it seemed that he would have to wait on her himself since he couldn't trust his other men. He doubted any of the others would be able to handle her anyway.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he said coolly. "I'm sure you will prove useful to me when I next decide how to destroy your pathetic army."

Ginny only glared at him, and Draco had to smile at her feistiness. He knew that he would have fun breaking her, if only the Dark Lord would let him have his way.

He smirked tauntingly at her and then he left the room, not even bothering to give her a backward glance. As soon as the door had shut behind him, Ginny let out a frustrated yell and threw her tattered robes at the door. She hated him so much and now it seemed that she would be subjected to him every day.

"Please let me get out of here! _Please_!"


	2. A Forgotten Memory

**A Forgotten Memory**

Three days had passed. Three days spent in this rotten, depressing room with no one to keep her company except for Draco Malfoy, and all he ever did was demand information from her anyway. It was enough to drive her insane.

Ginny let out an exasperated breath and leaned back against the wall, her knees pulled up tight against her chest. She stared at the wooden door, her only escape out of the room, and wondered how long it would be before she got out of this place. Was someone coming to rescue her? Did anyone even know she had been captured? Maybe they thought she was already dead?

She rubbed her eyes tiredly, feeling her frustration building. She hated not knowing what had happened. She hated not knowing what was going to happen. All of this confusion and anxiety was becoming almost too much to bear, and there was always the worry that something may have happened to Harry. Their camp had been protecting him; if he was gone, then their last chance in destroying Voldemort was also gone. It was a horrible thought.

"It's just not fair!" Ginny cried, throwing the lumpy pillow hard at the door.

She watched it fall with a satisfying thump to the ground, feeling a small release in venting her anger out on the pillow. But then the overwhelming reality of her situation flooded back into her mind, and she was once again left to brood on how hopeless her situation was.

A small sob broke free from her throat, the sound pitiful and weak and almost a mockery to her own ears. She had used to be so strong, so indestructible in her courage, but there seemed little point in putting up a brave front now when her very dignity had been thrown to the dogs and left to rot along with all her hopes and dreams. She was a fighter, there was no doubt about it, but she was also human, and it was only human to feel frightened and upset by her situation. She was not delusional. She knew that her time was running out. The longer she stayed in this prison, the less likely it was that she would be rescued. Every day spent here was like taking one step closer to the edge of a perilous cliff. Death was just waiting for her; it smiled at her every day from Draco Malfoy's cold grey eyes.

Ginny clenched her hands into fists at the thought of her captor. He encapsulated everything that the Death Eaters stood for to her. She hated him so much, and she hated not being able to do anything to hurt him. All she wanted was to make him bleed inside as she did, to make him feel that gut-wrenching pain in his heart so that he could feel the pain he had given her. She wanted him to suffer as she suffered, but her dark wishes would always just be wistful dreams. She was in his mercy. He had made that all too clear.

Three times a day he came in with her food, sat down on the wooden stool beside her bed, and then he started to interrogate her. She had not disclosed anything yet, but she could tell that his patience was wearing thin. He seemed to be itching to find an excuse to hurt her, and he probably would the next time she refused to say anything. She almost welcomed the pain, thinking that it would numb some of the emotional agony that she was feeling, but her more practical side realised that she would not feel any better if he did hurt her. If anything, she would just be in more pain.

The light shifted in the room, breaking from the suffocating darkness to become a dull sort of grey. Ginny glanced at the barred windows, watching the moth-eaten curtain flap lazily in the small breeze seeping through. Judging by the shadows being cast on the walls, she realised that Draco would be coming soon with her breakfast.

A sudden itch to just do something began to spread over body. Only for so long could she wallow in self-pity, but once again she could feel that stubborn fire burning inside her, forcing her to keep fighting.

Something had to be done. She could not stand sitting around like this every day, just waiting for death to come. If no one was going to save her, then she realised that she would just have to save herself. If she failed, well, at least she would know that she was truly trapped and could comfort herself in the fact that she had at least tried to break from her prison.

Ginny stood up from the bed and ran her hands through her greasy, matted hair in an agitated way as she tried to think of a way to escape. She was intelligent enough to know that her only option was through the door, and that meant she could only do it once Draco had opened it. She judged that he took about five seconds to close the door and place the magical locks back on, which meant that she had very little time to get him out of the way and escape. It would be a close call, but she had to try.

Having no wand did make things difficult. She was not stupid enough to think that she could fight him in unarmed combat, as he had a wand anyway, but there had to be something she could do. She was not the daughter of Arthur Weasley for nothing. If Muggles could find ways to fight without magic, surely she could too.

Her eyes fell on the wooden stool that Draco always sat on while he interrogated her. Ginny walked over and picked it up, feeling the hard wood and splintered edges with her fingers. This could work. It was strong enough to give a blow that would at least knock him out, which was all she needed to escape. She wasn't sure what lay outside her prison, but she hoped that there wouldn't be guards swarming all over the place. If she were to do this, she would need to have as little obstacles as possible.

Footsteps sounded outside the door. Ginny recognised them straight away as Malfoy's lazy gait. She panicked, knowing that she wasn't ready for him yet, but then the footsteps paused and she could hear muffled voices. She realised, much to her dismay, that there were indeed guards stationed outside her door. But how many?

Ginny crept closer to the door, stool in hand, and placed her ear against the wood so that she could figure out how many men were actually standing guard. They were speaking too quietly for her to really tell, but then the voices began to rise in anger.

"Are you daring to question me, Harkins?" Draco's cold voice demanded.

"Everyone else is saying it, too," another man's voice replied defensively, which Ginny assumed belonged to Harkins. "You just think you can do what you like because you're the Dark Lord's favourite, but we all know what your family is like, Malfoy. You're traitors the whole lot of you. Don't think we don't know about your past. We know you saved that brat's life before. Who's to say that you won't help him again?"

For a moment there was silence, and then Ginny heard a loud yelp of pain and something heavy drop to the ground. Her heart started thudding hard in her chest as she wondered what had just happened and what they were even talking about. What had Malfoy done? And who was this boy he had supposedly saved?

"Get out of my sight," Draco ordered in a deadly voice. "And take this imbecile with you. I don't need to waste my time on fools."

Ginny jumped in fright as the door handle began to turn. She clutched the stool tighter in her hands, her whole body throbbing in time with her heartbeat. She was going to be in terrible danger if this went wrong, but at least she could take some comfort in knowing that the guards had gone. It seemed that Draco had come in handy after all.

The door opened and Draco walked into the room, muttering something darkly under his breath. Ginny seized her chance for escape and swung the stool with all her might at his face. She heard the wood connect with a loud crack, and one of the legs of the stool broke from the sheer force of the attack. Draco let out an agonised groan and stumbled backwards. He dropped the plate of food in his hands, which smashed with a loud clatter on the ground, and clutched his face where the chair had hit him. She could see a deep gash across his forehead where a particularly jagged part of the wood had caught his face and split the skin open.

It was at this point that Ginny realised how many precious seconds she had just wasted. She dropped the remnants of the stool and ran through the open door, only to feel a strong arm come out of nowhere and encircle her waist, pulling her roughly back into the prison. Her body slammed up against the concrete wall, and she felt her head crack against the hard surface with a sickening force. She dazedly opened her eyes and looked up past the black dots blurring her vision to see Draco glaring down at her. A large, angry lump was already forming on his face, and she could see blood dripping down from his wound, giving him an even more sinister appearance. But that was nothing to the cold hate burning in his eyes. In that moment she felt more petrified than what a basilisk could have caused.

"That," Draco ground out in a deadly voice as he pinned her body hard against the wall, "was a very stupid thing to do."

He flicked his wand at the door, sealing them both in the room with an ominous bang, and then he pressed the tip of his wand threateningly to her neck. Ginny swallowed in fear as she looked up into his face, feeling suddenly every bit as stupid as he had called her. How could she have been so idiotic as to want to risk this man's anger? He did not care about her; he had even admitted that he wanted to kill her, and she had no doubt that he would enjoy it too, judging by the dark, almost eerie glow in his eyes.

Draco pushed his wand further into her neck, almost to the point where she thought it would pierce her flesh. She let out a small whimper, unable to stop her fear from surfacing.

"It would be so easy to kill you right now," he said in a deceptively soft voice.

He increased the pressure of his wand as if to prove just how easy it would be. Angry tears, mixed with fear, burned in her eyes, but not once did she remove her gaze from that hateful face. It almost felt as if looking away would trigger him to say those deadly words. Though she had little left to live for, she still had no wish to die.

Draco finally lowered his wand from her neck and wiped the blood away from his face that had started obscuring his vision. He let out a small hiss when his fingers brushed the sensitive skin above his eye, and Ginny couldn't help but smirk at her handy work. At least she had managed to hurt him and spoil those perfect features of his.

He noticed her expression and his eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't look so smug," he snapped. "Death would have been far nicer than what I have in store for you."

That stopped Ginny's smirk very quickly. Images of torture flashed before her mind, but then she suddenly remembered him saying that she was in his care until Voldemort came back. She assumed that meant that all her body parts and mental capabilities were to be kept intact. If this was the case, his words were just empty threats at the most.

"You can't hurt me," she declared triumphantly, her courage rising with her sudden epiphany. "You said yourself that you wouldn't kill me, and I'm sure Voldemort wouldn't want me damaged by the Cruciatus Curse or any other torture spells."

Draco's thin lips curved into an amused smile. "Oh, really?" He reached down with this free hand and took her hand in his, his eyes flashing in a dangerous way that did not bode well for her. "Are you so sure of that?"

She shuddered at his touch, revolted by the feeling of that hateful creature's skin on her own. He leaned his face closer to hers, and she could feel his warm breath brushing against her ear. Her body stiffened at his sudden proximity, and she riveted her gaze to his chest, unable to look into his face for fear of what she might see.

"You're right that I cannot kill you," he said softly in her ear, the tone almost like a lover's whisper, "and you are even right that I cannot torture you with the Cruciatus Curse. But there are other ways to hurt a person – ways that can be easily disguised."

His fingers, which had still tightly trapped her hand within his, now relaxed their hold. There was a pause, and Ginny could almost see him smile his malicious smile, and then he suddenly grabbed one of her fingers and pulled it back hard. The bone snapped with a sickening crunch, and then the waves of pain were flooding over her and a ridiculously delayed cry escaped her lips. The sheer agony of it was so intense that she could barely think.

Her body swayed weakly and, with tears burning in her eyes, she raised her gaze to his cruel face. He was smiling fully for her to see now, in all his twisted satisfaction, and Ginny began to feel truly terrified at the thought of what else this man would do to her. It seemed like he had no feeling at all.

"Does it hurt, Ginevra?" he taunted in a falsely sympathetic voice. "Does it make you want to cry?"

"You're insane!" Ginny whispered in horror, staring up at him through wide, tear-filled eyes.

Draco gave an unfeeling laugh and yanked back two more of her fingers. She let out a fresh scream of pain, and a strange roaring filled her ears as white flashes danced before her eyes. She stared shakily down at her hand, noticing the odd angles that her fingers were now shaped into. A sudden wave of nausea swept over her, and, before she knew it, she was collapsing against his chest in a helpless heap. He wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her, and she feebly tried to break from his hold, but her mind was clouding over with a thick darkness. She could almost feel her consciousness slipping away from her, and her eyes fluttered shut in tired defeat.

The strangest sensation swept over her body, as if she had suddenly become weightless. Ginny realised rather dazedly that Draco must be carrying her. She mentally willed him to put her down – not wanting him to touch her or hold her in anyway – but he did not seem to receive her telepathic protestations and simply continued to walk with her until they reached the bed. He dumped her roughly down on top of the mouldy blankets and then grasped her wounded hand in his, though, thankfully, he no longer seemed to desire to break any more of her fingers.

Ginny finally dared to glance up at his face and got a glimpse of him aiming his wand down at her hand and muttering something under his breath. A warm glow surrounded her warped fingers as the bones mended back together, and then the pain slowly faded until there was only a dull pain to remind her of what had happened, as well as her own shaken nerves.

Draco released her hand and glared coldly down at her. "Don't push me again, Ginevra," he warned nastily, "or it will be more than your fingers that I break."

Ginny averted her face, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. She felt stupid, sore and terribly alone. She just wanted to leave this place and never look into those cold eyes again, but that was just a vain hope. She was trapped here, and, even worse, she was trapped here with him.

Draco repaired the stool that she had broken and placed it back in its usual position next to the bed. He irritably wiped the blood away from his eyes and then raised his wand to his face, sealing the cut to stop any more of the crimson from seeping out. The wound had been healed, but his face was still swollen and covered in blood. He looked like a monster, which Ginny thought rather fitting considering the circumstances.

The blond grimaced slightly as he touched his bruised flesh, and then he turned his attention back to her. He calmly conjured chains to extend from the bedposts, securing her wrists and ankles tightly to the bed.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, frantically trying to break free from the chains.

"I'm making sure another episode like that doesn't happen again," he replied bluntly.

Ginny realised that she was indeed trapped to the bed, and her eyes darted to his face in sudden suspicion. She had to remind herself that he was not going to rape her. He would hurt her, but it seemed he was not monstrous enough to actually degrade her in that way. No doubt he thought that it would degrade him.

Draco sat down on the stool and stared at her composedly as he calmed down to his usual smooth-mannered self. "Now then," he began evenly, "we're going to continue our discussion, and I would ask you to remember that I am not feeling particularly disposed towards you right now, so don't try my patience and let's just get this over with."

"I already told you that I don't know anything," Ginny responded emptily, just as she always did.

He stared at her for a moment, and his jaw twitched in frustration. "Is that all you are going to say?"

"There's nothing else _to_ say."

Draco let out a frustrated growl and stood up off the stool. "Fine! If you won't tell me then I'll just have to find out for myself!"

He raised his wand, and Ginny felt only the briefest moment of trepidation and fear before he suddenly cried, "_Legimens_!"

It was the most defiling experience she had ever been subjected to. She could actually feel him probing her mind as he sorted through her memories and thoughts to find whatever it was that he was looking for. She, on the other hand, could only watch helplessly, unable to stop this breach into her privacy or block her eyes from viewing the painful memories that passed before her like a slideshow.

Charlie's dead body imprinted itself into her mind, forcing her to relive again how she had watched him die in her arms, unable to do anything more than weep and wish that she had the knowledge to help him. Then she could see herself cradling her mother's dead body, and again felt the dumb rage and helplessness of not knowing who had killed the woman dearest to her heart.

On and on it went, with each memory becoming more painful as it passed through death after death, and battle after battle.

Black swarmed before her eyes, a pause in the painful recollections, and then Ginny could see Harry kneeling on one knee, proposing to her much younger and happier self. He gave her the ring that now hung around her neck, his emerald eyes lit up with that warm glow she loved so dearly. The memory changed suddenly, and this time she was left to stare in horror as Harry's prone and blood-covered body was carried into the tent, watching that agonising moment as his eyes fluttered closed in a final, death-like manner.

The memories started coming faster and faster, almost as if Draco was getting impatient with his inability to find what he was looking for. Elise's wasted face flickered before her mind, but that soon changed to the people at the camp screaming for their lives as the Death Eaters swarmed in. Memory-Ginny was running desperately, and then Draco Malfoy was walking towards her with his wand outstretched, his cold eyes meeting her own with dark intent…

Everything began to blur, until Ginny found herself trapped in a dark chamber with snake statues leering down at her. Her eyes lifted fearfully to stare up at the handsome, dark haired boy kneeling over her. He smiled and placed the small, black book in her hands—

"NO!" Ginny screamed, unable to handle it any longer.

For a moment she caught a brief glimpse of Draco's surprised face, then images began to surge before her eyes that she knew were not her own memories.

A little boy with pale-blond hair was running and shrieking with glee down a beautiful white corridor, running with that carefree happiness that only childlike innocence can give. A woman soon caught up to him and stooped down to pick him up in her arms, claiming her prize with a triumphant "I've got you now!" Both the woman and the boy fell into a peal of laughter, and the sound drew a tall, blond man out from a nearby room. His eyes were narrowed slightly, but when he saw the woman and child laughing, the stern expression softened into an amused smile.

The image started distorting, the people's faces fading in and out in a warped fuzziness as if something was trying to hold the memories back. Bits and pieces of memory flittered together in a chaotic mess to become muddled and confused in their strange amalgamation so that Ginny could barely tell what was happening at all. She could see black robed figures standing in a circle; lightning clashing around a tall tower on a dark night; green lights from the Avada Kedavra curse darting through a battlefield; Dark Marks burning on pale skin; a large building burning while the people inside screamed desperately; the blonde woman laughing, but then her laughter turned to loud, pained sobs—

Screaming. Death. Blood. Everything was flashing before her eyes in distorted scenes until, finally, a memory burst forth so clear that Ginny felt her brain protesting in pain at the vividness of it all.

A baby boy was lying naked on a stone altar, his loud cries echoing unheeded into the night. Stars gleamed in ghostly white up in the inky sky, and the full moon shone down in an unfeelingly beautiful way, not even caring that a child was twisting in desperate fear down below under its silvery light.

There was a circle of black robed figures surrounding the altar, each wearing the nightmarish mask of a Death Eater. Only their emotionless eyes showed through the slits. The circle parted, and a tall man walked towards the altar in the middle. He was also cloaked in black, but he was not wearing a mask, allowing his snake-like face and crimson eyes to be seen clearly through the night. He stopped in front of the altar and stared down at the baby boy, and his red eyes smiled in dark satisfaction. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a jade stone that had been carved into the shape of a coiled snake. He placed it on the altar in front of the crying baby where it began to glow a dark, sinister green.

The man raised his arms up to the sky, as if to bring the very heavens down to his fingertips, and then started chanting in a strange language and making odd hissing noises with his tongue. The jade stone began to glow brighter—the colour oddly like the green flash which accompanies the killing curse—and continued to grow in its brightness until the sickly green seemed to surround the whole altar. The snake-like man's chanting became louder, the stone's light grew all the more brighter, and then the light suddenly shot out from the stone and buried itself deep inside the baby's heart, leaving the jade stone once again dull and lifeless.

For a moment there was silence. Even the baby had stopped crying, but then a cool gust of wind slipped through the circle and the people came to life once more. The snake-like man picked up the baby boy and held him out for the circle to see, a twisted smile forming on his face—

"ENOUGH!" someone shouted distantly in her head.

The vision distorted once more into a confused muddle of people and images. A violent pain surged through her mind, and then the visions stopped completely. She blinked and saw Draco stumble backwards, holding a hand to his head with a pained expression on his face. He was breathing heavily, and he placed his other hand against the wall to steady himself.

"Enough," he muttered weakly, still not looking at her as he took deep, calming breaths.

Ginny said nothing. She was too frightened to speak, knowing that she had just witnessed his memories. She hated to think what he was going to do to her now, and she was just waiting for him to lash out at her, though he seemed to be too shaken to do anything right now. He was still leaning heavily against the wall, and she thought she could see the faint glimmer of tears on his pale cheeks – something that disturbed her more than anything she had seen in his mind. How could a monster like him feel pain?

Draco finally looked up at her, his face even paler than usual, and aimed his wand shakily at her face. She felt her heart leap up into her throat, and she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable curse that would come her way. But the pain never did come. Instead, she felt the chains remove from her hands and feet, leaving her free to move once again, and perfectly unharmed.

Surprised, she opened her eyes in the expectation of meeting his own, but he was already walking towards the door. He paused as if contemplating something, and then he turned his face towards her. For a brief moment she could see the deep sense of fear and confusion he was feeling in his grey eyes, but then he tore his gaze away and quickly left the room, slamming the door shut behind him with a loud bang.

Ginny let out a breath she didn't realise she had been holding. What had just happened then? She had seen into his memories, there was no doubt about it, but that didn't make her any less confused.

Why hadn't he punished her? And what could have possibly caused him to look so shaken and upset and practically flee from her presence? She just didn't understand it, and she felt just as confused by his strange behaviour as he had looked when he had met her gaze for those few seconds.

Something was definitely wrong about all of this. For one thing, she didn't understand how she could have penetrated his mind without a wand or even casting a spell, and then there was just something so terribly disturbing about the last memory she had witnessed. Ginny did not know where Draco had been in that memory, but, as she had witnessed it, a dark presence had entered her mind which she had only experienced once in her lifetime. It was the same feeling that she had felt while being possessed by Tom Riddle's diary; an indescribable evil that seemed to suck the very life out of her soul and had left her feeling hollow and cold.

She did not understand why his memory should cause her to feel this way, but she did know that it had something to do with that stone. Whatever the ritual was that the Death Eaters had been performing, they had used the darkest of magic to do it.

But what did it all mean?

**OOOO**

Draco entered his room and slammed the door shut behind him, his fingers fumbling slightly with the latch as he locked the door. He banged his head against the hard wood and let out a deep breath as he stood there for a moment to allow his nerves to finally calm down. His brain was in turmoil from everything that he had just experienced. The power of her mind had been overwhelming. Not only had she managed to send him out of her mind without the use of a wand, but she had also penetrated his own mind with complete ease. He knew that he was excellent at Legilemency and Occlumency, so he could not understand how it had happened. She should not have been able to see anything at all, and it had taken all his energy to stop the memories from surfacing – something he had never had to do before. He doubted even the Dark Lord had as much effortless power as she had shown. It was a disturbing thought.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block the painful images that kept replaying over and over in his mind. The memories had brought back so many suppressed feelings, but it was the last that truly frightened him. That memory should not have been there. He had never witnessed such a ritual, and though a small voice hinted that there was one explanation which would account for its being in his mind, Draco firmly pushed the thought away. He refused to believe that he might have been the baby. It was just ridiculous.

_Then why was it in your mind?_ the voice questioned with malicious superiority, taunting him with the fact that it was the only explanation that made sense.

Draco clenched his fists and slammed his fist against the door. He wouldn't accept it. There was just no way he could have been that baby.

He could almost hear that irritating voice laughing in his head. He let out a growl of frustration and pulled himself away from the door to glare at the window opposite him. The sky was a dull grey, looking no more welcoming than a cold slab of concrete, and did nothing to soften his dark mood. He simply could not rid himself of the doubt and fear that now lingered inside him.

What if he had been that baby? What if he did have that strange light inside him, and what did it mean for him if he did?

His eyes narrowed. He knew what he had to do. There was only one way to find out if that memory truly belonged to him, and the answer was sitting conveniently in his master's bedroom.

Draco turned and unlocked the door, now oddly calm in his movements. He exited the room and made his way stealthily down the dark hallways, going deeper into the bowels of the Death Eater headquarters, until he came to a single wooden door. He paused for a moment, staring at the handle in some hesitation as he wondered if it was really worth it to know what that memory meant.

"Get a grip," he muttered firmly.

He closed his fingers over the cold metal of the door handle and entered the room. His eyes greeted the shadowy depths of the unoccupied room, and he walked forward, pulling out his wand to light the candles and then shut the door behind him. It would not do to have people know that he had been in here.

He scanned the room and spotted the large cabinet pressed against the back wall. A small breath escaped his lips. He moved forward and pulled open the black doors to reveal a curious stone basin with ancient runes sketched onto the top. For a moment he just stood there staring at the seemingly innocent object. He knew that everything could change from the discovery he was about to make, but he had to know.

Draco closed his hands around the smooth edges of the basin and carefully lifted it out of the cabinet and carried it over to the table. He took a seat and then once more pulled out his wand. In one fluid movement he pressed the wand to his temple and closed his eyes, searching for the memory that Ginny had forced him to see. Once he had it firmly imprinted in his mind, he gently pulled his wand away and stared down at the silvery thread now hanging from the tip. The same hesitation prickled at his senses, but he quickly regained his courage and thrust the memory into the basin where it swirled around like liquid silver.

The blond closed his eyes, ignoring the feeling of deep foreboding inside him. He reached out and touched the strange liquid, and then the room vanished as his consciousness was sucked in by the powers of the pensieve.

_Draco sat up from the ground and stared around the clearing. It was a hilltop he recognised not far from his home in Wiltshire, known to be a place of worship for the pagans who had once roamed the lands so __many centuries ago. This did not bode well for him, but, then again, it was not so surprising that the Death Eaters would use one of the sacrificial altars by his home. There were many, after all, and Voldemort was the kind of person to take a fancy to old pagan altars._

_He turned his gaze towards the circle of robed__ figures and moved closer, pushing through the circle to stand in the middle next to the altar. The baby was crying, just as it had been before, but he was more interested in finding out who was standing around the circle. It was true that he could only see their eyes, but he had not lived with the Death Eaters for nearly six years to not know how to recognise them. _

_As he had thought:__ these were the Death Eaters that had thrived at the height of the old war. Macnair, Avery, Goyle, Crabbe, his aunt Bellatrix and her husband, his father—_

_He paused on his father, feeling a sudden pang in his heart. How long had it been since he had seen his father alive? It must __have been almost three years. Three years, and even now he could still see the glassy eyes that had stared up at him from a body lifeless and cold._

_Angry with himself for getting sentimental, Draco quickly tore his eyes away from his father's masked face and stared at Voldemort, who was moving through the parted circle. Draco knew what was going to come next, but that did not stop the deep sense of dread from curling i__nside him as he saw the jade stone be placed on the altar. There was just something so evil about it, as if it was filled with all the malice of the world._

_Voldemort began his ritual, and Draco could only watch once again as the stone's eerie green __light grew brighter until it shot out from the jade snake and forced itself into the baby's heart. His eyes narrowed, watching intently as Voldemort picked up the boy in his arms and held him out for the circle of Death Eaters to see._

"_Behold, our future!" Voldemort cried in a voice that made the hair on Draco's neck prickle unpleasantly._

_The Death Eaters swarmed forward like flies to rotten meat, fawning at their master's robes and touching the child's naked body in deep reverence. Only on__e Death Eater had not moved. Draco realised with a jolt that it was his father._

_Voldemort__'s red eyes fell on Lucius's masked face and his smile became even more twisted. He beckoned Lucius forward. _

_"You look troubled, my young friend," he remarked silkily, still holding the baby securely in his arms. "Surely you are not having second thoughts?"_

_Lucius__ lowered his gaze to the ground. "It is nothing, my lord."_

"_Liar," his master taunted cruelly. "I can smell your fear as easily I can see the lie in your eyes." He laughed and glanced down at the baby in his arms. "The child will not die, if that is what you are worried about. He would already be dead by now if his soul had rejected the magic, but I believe I was right to have picked your son." _

_Draco felt his breath__ cut short, and then the memory stopped. _

He blinked, finding himself back on the chair in the master bedroom. So it was true then? He had been the child.

"What are you doing in my room, Draco?" a silky voice asked, neither angry nor amused.

Draco jumped in fright and turned his face to see Voldemort staring at him through contemplative red eyes. No doubt his master had already seen the pensieve and knew very well why he was in his room, but Voldemort always did take a delight in scaring people – as if his snake-like face was not frightening enough.

The blond stood up from the chair and walked forward to his master. "What did you do to me?"

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, but he did not curse Draco for his impudence as he might have done to anyone else. Draco always had received more license than the other Death Eaters, and the angry young man now glaring at his master had finally come to realise why. It was all because of the stone, or, rather, what the stone had done to him.

Draco could feel the red eyes boring into his own and knew that Voldemort was reading his mind. He did not bother to put up any barriers, thinking that it was easier for his master to just see it than for him to explain.

"I see," Voldemort remarked after a moment of silence. "You've learnt about the stone."

"Yes, I have," Draco growled, feeling very ill-used and upset, "and I want to know what it does!"

"Do not fret, my child. You are in no danger from the spell that was placed on you."

Draco eyed him suspiciously. He wasn't sure if he believed Voldemort, but he knew that he had little choice in the matter. His master was far too skilled in Occlumency for him to even get a glimpse of the other man's thoughts.

"Well, why did you choose me?" Draco demanded.

Even if the magic could not harm him, he didn't see why it had to have been him to carry it.

Voldemort poured himself a glass of wine and stared down at the crimson liquid in his glass. "It was your destiny to carry the magic of the stone. You should be honoured you were chosen for such an important task. Many purebloods would kill to have such magic."

"Destiny?" Draco repeated with a scornful laugh.

"You do not believe in destiny?"

"I believe in myself."

Voldemort smiled. "I see."

Again, Draco stared at his master suspiciously. He had a feeling that Voldemort was not telling him something.

"How is my young Ginevra?" Voldemort asked before Draco could question him any further.

"She's fine," Draco answered truthfully.

He did not count breaking her fingers as anything worth mentioning, and he was reluctant to admit that he had infiltrated her mind and had had his own invaded in the process.

"Good. I want her to be in good condition for the ritual."

"Ritual?" Draco echoed, momentarily forgetting about his own frustrations as he looked at his master in some interest.

"Yes, a ritual. Why else would I want her kept safe?"

Draco frowned. Voldemort took a sip of his wine and then placed the glass back down on the table. His eyes seemed to look past Draco, and a small smile passed over his thin lips.

"Ginevra Weasley is a very special woman," he said softly. "She is of an ancient family that very rarely gives birth to female children. In fact, Ginevra is the seventh female in her line to be born in the past seven centuries. Curious, isn't it, that she is the seventh female to be born in the seventh century, and also happens to be the seventh child."

"What are you saying?"

Voldemort's red eyes locked onto his. "She's bound by the magical number seven, giving her powers far beyond what any of us could achieve. If she had the tuition, she could very well overpower us all. Of course, she probably has no idea of this herself."

"Then we should kill her," Draco said bluntly.

If she was really that powerful they should get rid of her now before she did anything drastic. He'd already experienced her powers of Legilemency; who was to say that she didn't have even greater powers hidden up her sleeve?

"You are too rash," Voldemort chided. "I do not wish to kill her – not yet anyway. She is far too useful to me, or at least her child will be." He levelled his eyes on Draco. "That is where you come in."

"I don't understand," Draco said warily, not liking where this was going.

Voldemort's eyes gleamed ominously in the candlelight. "Ginevra has a special vulnerability to dark magic ever since she was tainted by my soul. You, Draco, are a living force of dark magic thanks to the powers I placed on you at birth. If you were to fuse your magic with hers, her womb would be easily contaminated with that darkness, allowing her to give birth to the most powerful dark wizard or witch our world has seen. Of course, I would not allow the child to live. It is very easy to take the magic from an innocent if one knows the right spells to do it."

Draco felt his stomach twist in disgust. He had a feeling he knew what Voldemort was asking of him now, but he still clung to the hope that he might be wrong.

"Just what are you saying?" he demanded, inwardly hoping that his fears were not true.

"I want you to get Ginevra Weasley pregnant."

For a moment Draco just stared at his master with an unreadable expression on his face. Many thoughts were racing through his mind, but the most obvious was the complete revulsion he felt at the thought of even going near her in such a way.

"No."

"No?" Voldemort repeated, and his eyes narrowed in irritation and some disbelief. Never had a Death Eater refused a task before.

Draco shook his head firmly. "I don't want to. I'll kill for you, torture people if I have to, but I will not do that."

Voldemort laughed softly. "Admirable sentiments, my boy, but your scruples are meaningless to me. You will do as I say."

"I won't."

He knew it was dangerous to push things in such a way, but he had a feeling that his master would not kill him for it. He was too precious, he knew that now, and he was going to make well use of that knowledge.

Voldemort's red eyes narrowed in anger. "You are making a grave mistake, Draco."

Draco remained silent. He had made his decision and he was not going to move from it.

"Very well. I have no choice." Voldemort raised his wand and aimed it at Draco's chest. "Perhaps the Cruciatus Curse will soften your resolve."

**OOOO **

Ginny awoke with a start and rubbed her side where she was sure she had just been kicked. She stared wildly around the room and saw a tall woman standing by her bed and glaring down at her through fierce blue eyes. A frown tugged at Ginny's lips, and for a moment she just stared stupidly at the woman.

"Stop staring and get up!" the woman snapped, placing a hand on her hip. "I haven't got all day, you know."

"Where's Malfoy?"

"That's none of your business," the woman replied bluntly.

Ginny decided not to say anything back. She was just relieved that she did not have to put up with her usual captor, though this woman didn't seem to be much better. She was rather fidgety, a complete contrast to Draco's relatively calm disposition, and kept tossing her silky brown hair over her shoulder in irritation.

"I can't believe he made me do this," the woman muttered bitterly to herself, now folding her arms crossly. "It's not my problem he got himself in the Dark Lord's bad books, and yet I'm the one who's left to do his dirty work all because he's afraid the men might do something to his precious prisoner."

Her blue eyes darted back to Ginny. "You're lucky you've got him, you know. The others wouldn't give a damn about you, but he's so finicky about things like that." She laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "He says it offends his sensibilities, or some such rot. Funny that. He'd rather we kill the girls than let the men rape them."

Ginny said nothing.

The woman laughed again and started twirling her wand in her hands. "I don't care myself. Our women get it just as bad from those so-called _Light Fighters_. I suppose it just gives them a taste of their own medicine."

"They would never do that!" Ginny retorted, goaded into speaking. "You're the evil ones. We're just trying to protect ourselves!"

"Ha! That's the funniest thing I've heard all day!" The woman chuckled to herself and looked down at Ginny with a pitying expression on her face. "Do you honestly think that your men are so perfect and good? This is war, girlie, and war will make monsters out of everyone. Give men a bit of power and it doesn't matter who they were before, they'll all turn into unfeeling pigs sooner or later."

"That's not true."

The woman leaned forward and levelled her intimidating gaze on Ginny. "Isn't it? And how do you know, Miss?"

"I—I just do," Ginny stammered.

"Well, let me tell you something, girlie. I've been to your camps and I've seen what your men do to the captured Death Eaters. They torture them just we like do, and if the prisoner happens to be a female, you can bet that they'll have a bit of unholy fun with her, too. Your soldiers aren't saints; some of them are worse than the brutes we've got here."

Ginny shook her head in disbelief. "I don't believe you."

"Then don't, but you're living in a dream world if you think the world can be divided into black and white. I'd say it's more grey myself." Her eyes gleamed in amusement. "But I don't deny that there are different shades of grey."

"Lara! The Dark Lord wants to speak to the girl!"

The woman, who Ginny assumed must be Lara, stepped back and gave another of her irritable huffs.

"Always so demanding. Well, come on then. Looks like the master has finally decided to see you. He came back yesterday. Took us all by surprise, to be honest, but it was Draco who got the brunt of his black mood. Poor boy is still recovering."

"Lara!"

"I'M COMING!" Lara bellowed in exasperation. She sighed and looked at Ginny. "Well, hurry up! You don't want to keep him waiting, do you?"

Ginny quickly scrambled to her feet and followed Lara out of the room. They walked down some corridors, and Ginny could feel her heart beating painfully in her chest as she thought of what awaited her at the end of the trek. She was going to see the Dark Lord, though she couldn't guess what for. She knew, of course, that he had been the one who had requested her kidnapping, but that still did not explain why.

Her mind idly strayed back to Draco, and she wondered what it was that he had done to get into his master's black books. Perhaps Voldemort had found out about yesterday and had punished him for breaking her fingers. She hoped so. The monster deserved it.

"Here we are," Lara remarked, stopping in front of a door. She knocked three times and then waited.

"Come in," a smooth voice said from within the room.

Ginny shivered. She knew that voice very well. Though it was older and more mature now, she could still recognise the lilting tones Tom had used on her when she was eleven.

Lara gave her back a small push. "Go on."

Ginny reached up and shakily turned the door handle. The door swung open and there, standing in the middle of the room, stood Voldemort. A chilling smile curved his mouth and his eyes gleamed with dark mischief.

"We finally meet again, Ginevra."


	3. Feast for a Dark Appetite

**A/N: ****Some 'steamy' scenes in this chapter. It's nothing graphic, but by all means skip it if it offends you. **

**Feast for a**** Dark Appetite**

Ginny stared at the man before her, riveted by the waxy skin and the gleaming red slits for eyes that had always chilled her heart. It was a face of nightmares, and no matter how brave she thought she was there was no denying that right now she felt like a wounded bird caught in the merciless claws of a cat. She was helpless, and she was terrified.

The door closed behind her, sealing them in the room together with an ominous bang. Her eyes flicked to his in fear, and she could feel her heart pounding uncomfortably in her chest as a deep sense of foreboding arose inside her. There was no doubt that he wanted something from her, but what that was she could not say. He did not make any move to hurt her; instead he closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, and an expression of deep satisfaction crept onto his snake-like face.

"Ah, yes," he whispered, still with his eyes shut and a faint smile curling his lips. "I can feel the power sleeping inside you." His eyes opened again, and she could see the covetous gleam glinting in the ruby depths. "You have no idea how truly special you are, Ginevra."

Ginny eyed him warily. "What are you talking about?"

He gave a soft laugh and walked towards her. "That is exactly what I mean. You don't understand your magic at all, but I—" his eyes darkened with lustful fervour "—I have seen what your power can do."

Alarmed by his proximity, Ginny instinctively backed away from him until her back hit the wall. Her eyes darted nervously up to his. He was practically devouring her with his gaze, and the predatory smile curling his lips did nothing to ease her panic.

She pressed herself further up against the wall, as if hoping that the concrete would swallow her whole and take her away from the disgusting man before her, but the wall remained stubbornly solid. She was trapped.

Voldemort stopped before her and reached out one pale finger to stroke her cheek, sending unpleasant shivers prickling up her spine. Her body seemed to become paralysed at his touch, though she desperately wanted to push him away. She couldn't stand the feel of his skin. He felt like ice, as if his touch was the touch of death itself.

"I have waited a long time for this moment," he whispered, trailing his finger caressingly down her neck while keeping his eyes locked on hers. "Ever since I realised who you were I knew that I had to find you, and now you're finally here."

"W-what are you going to do to me?" she stuttered.

He laughed, the sound sending another chill down her spine, and then he stepped back from her and moved towards the far table. She watched him warily as she tried to pull her trembling body together. She did not care to admit how shaken his proximity had made her feel.

Voldemort settled himself comfortably on the chair. "I admit it did not come to me at first," he confessed, clasping his hands on the table. "I thought that I could manipulate you into serving me, but then that does little to help me. You would still hold all that power yourself, and I did not want that. I knew I had to come up with another idea, and then it came to me. . ."

Ginny knew that she did not want to hear what he was going to say next, but she had little power to stop him.

"You see, Ginevra," Voldemort continued in a pleasant voice, "there are only three people on this earth who carry ancient magic in their veins. You are one of those people, as am I. The other is my servant, Draco Malfoy. Unlike you and I, however, his power was given to him while he was still a baby, not as a birthright, and that power cannot be used through the means of spells and enchantments. He is, in effect, a living force of dark magic." Voldemort chuckled to himself. "You could almost say that he _is_ an enchantment, and that, Ginevra, is where I realised how I could manipulate your magic to my advantage."

"I don't understand."

He was speaking in riddles to her, yet there was something in his words that struck a chord. She recalled the memory that she had seen in Draco's mind, and she realised now that the ritual she had witnessed must have been when he had been given his 'ancient magic'. But what did Voldemort mean by the blond Death Eater being a _living force of dark magic_, and what did that have to do with her?

Voldemort smiled at her bewilderment. "Think of it this way. If Draco can be considered a form of dark magic, what would be the effect if I used that magic on you? You would be cursed, just as you would if I had used any other spell. But because his magic is special, the effects are much different to any normal curse."

"What are you saying?" Ginny demanded with increasing dread.

"It's really quite simple," Voldemort explained with an unnerving smile. "By cursing the root I will curse the fruit, and every seed that could come from that fruit. Draco's magic works like an innate curse: it touches and corrupts everything vulnerable to it. As you have already been tainted by dark magic, you are even more susceptible to his powers. His magic could have a myriad of effects on you, but what I do know for certain is that your womb will be cursed upon contact with him, allowing you to produce the most powerful dark mage this world has ever seen. There would be no surpassing the magic of a child born from a witch such as yourself, as part, if not all, of your magic will pass on to your child. Imagine, then, how powerful that child would be if enhanced with Draco's own dark magic!"

"And how do you hope to gain from that?" Ginny retorted, sensing a flaw in his grand scheme. "How can it help you if my child has all that power? The situation is just the same as it is now."

Voldemort stood up from his chair and approached her with careless grace. "Have you ever wondered why witches were stigmatised as having sexual relations with the devil?"

Ginny gave an involuntary twitch, put on edge by his sudden movement. "I thought it was just Muggles exaggerating things," she admitted cautiously.

"In some ways, yes, but it is true that it was once a common practise for witches to offer themselves to the darkest of wizards in order to have his magic planted inside them through the means of a child. Once the child had been born, the witches could sacrifice the baby by using the ritual of the Hadem Rhi, empowering them with an even greater magic than what they had previously wielded. However, nothing but the purest of dark magic can change the nature of inherited magical powers, and, as you know, only Draco holds this certain type of magic."

He stopped in front of her, a rueful smile curling his lips. "Not even I could shift the attributes of a baby's magic from neutral to dark, but then my magic is not as pure as Draco's. He is truly unique. I could not believe my luck when I found him, for there was a child with all the innocence and blood purity needed to release the stone's magic. Any other wizard would have died, but Draco was born with just the right requirements needed for his soul to withstand its power, allowing him to take the magic upon himself as a living part of him. He _is_ the stone, just as the stone is a part of him, and it is through him that I will take your magic, Ginevra."

Ginny recoiled backwards as Voldemort reached out to tilt her face towards his. She had a feeling that she knew what he was asking of her now, but she still hoped that she might be wrong. Even the thought of doing something so intimate with Draco Malfoy made her feel physically sick.

"Think about it, Ginevra," Voldemort continued in a voice of seductive persuasion as he stared intently into her eyes. "You have the potential to create a magic this world has never seen. Even the four founders of Hogwarts never wielded such power. You would be making history."

Ginny wrenched her face away from his touch, her eyes flashing with disgust. "Making history, yes, but at what cost? You must be insane if you think I would consent to such a thing!"

"My dear, you should be grateful that I am only asking this of you. Believe me," Voldemort assured her with a sinister smile, "I could do much worse."

Ginny shook her head. "You've taken everything from me, yet now you expect me to bow down to you and allow some monster to get me pregnant so you can sacrifice my child for your own greed? I don't think so!"

Voldemort closed his eyes, his patience thinning. "This is the second time I have been refused now. I warn you, Ginevra, my patience is not infinite. I cannot force Draco to do my wishes—" his face contorted in cold frustration. "He has a stubbornness I did not perceive, and I cannot afford to risk the sanity of his mind by punishing him further. You, on the other hand, I know I can break."

"You're wasting your time!" Ginny retorted.

It was a foolhardy thing to refuse the Dark Lord, but she felt quite emboldened by her anger and was in no mood to grovel at his feet.

Voldemort gave a serene smile that was unnervingly belied with the open malice in his eyes. "No, Ginevra, you _will_ do this for me. If I cannot force him to take you, I will force you to take him. Either way, I _am_ going to get that child."

Before Ginny even knew what was happening, she was writhing on the floor in pain and clutching her head where scorching needles pierced her skin from the Cruciatus Curse. It was a pain beyond pain, an unbearable torture that seemed to pierce her very soul with its agonising touch. She would have done anything in that moment to make it stop.

Voldemort removed the curse and stared down at her trembling body with not a trace of pity in his eyes. "Now then, perhaps you would like to reconsider your decision?"

Ginny shakily pushed herself up off the ground and stared at the man before her through tear-filled eyes. He would probably keep torturing her until she gave in, and a part of her wanted to give up now, if only to ensure that she would never feel such pain again. At the same time, she could see that she was too important for him to hurt too badly. Like Draco, he _needed_ her, and that gave her some leverage, at least enough to put her life in a more secure position.

Physical pain she could handle, but bearing the child of her enemy made her very soul shrink in horror. How could she ever willingly allow that foul creature who had murdered her brother to give her a child? It was unthinkable. She just couldn't do it, no matter how terrified and wounded she felt.

"I will never help you," Ginny spat hatefully. "You'll just have to kill me."

Voldemort knelt down in front of her and grasped her chin firmly with his hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. "You will help me, Ginevra, because I am going to give you no choice. I can see into your mind as clearly as I am looking into your face right now, and I can see your weaknesses. You are far too open, my dear."

He smiled grimly, then shifted his hand from her face and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her to her feet. Ginny stumbled after him with a cry of pain, tears escaping her eyes as he dragged her roughly out of the room. She twisted against his hold, shouting insults and demanding to be released, but Voldemort continued to haul her through the dark corridors until they came to a set of wooden doors.

He stopped and yanked her face down so that she was looking up at him."Do you know what is in this room?" he asked in a surprisingly pleasant voice, despite the ruthless hold he had on her hair.

Ginny shook her head, her vision blurring with tears.

"Then I'll tell you. Through these doors are the scum of my followers. They are the kind of men who would take great delight in giving you their own personal welcome." His eyes gleamed maliciously as he took in her youthful face and soft, feminine curves. "Oh, yes, Ginevra, they would take great pleasure in you."

Her eyes widened in horror as she realised what he was implying. She stared at the closed door, hearing the men laughing and talking from within. Her stomach clenched in revulsion. Not for a moment did she doubt the truth of Voldemort's words. She remembered all too well how eager Baldren had been to rape her, and she knew that there were probably many more just like him in that room. Just because Draco chose not to rape his prisoners did not mean that the others would be so courteous.

"Think wisely," Voldemort warned. "I will not give you another chance. One more word of denial on your lips and I'll leave you to the men to do with you what they will. You are not as precious to me as you think, though I do admit that I want your magic. However, my need is not great. I am already the greatest sorcerer alive, even if you and Draco both have ancient magic, and as he—despite his fits of rebelliousness—can still be controlled, it would be nothing to me to kill you after letting my men have their fill of you. You are only useful to me, Ginevra, depending on how far you are willing to cooperate. I do not keep people who are nothing but a burden to me."

Ginny let out a shaky breath and stared back at the heavy doors. This was it. She now had the choice of obeying Voldemort and having a child with Draco Malfoy—a man she hated—or she could refuse the Dark Lord and suffer the painful rape of a whole gang of Death Eaters before facing an equally painful death. Either way, she was going to lose the last shred of innocence she had in this world of nightmares.

She clenched her hands into fists and turned back to Voldemort. "What do you want me to do?"

Voldemort smiled pleasantly. "I knew you would come around eventually."

Ginny said nothing. She was practically shaking with fury at the thought of what she would now have to do, but she could see no alternative. Better to be with one man she hated and still live than be raped by several and die. Voldemort knew this; that was why he had brought her here in the first place. He knew that she was not the type to surrender through physical torture, but desperation could drive a person to do anything.

Voldemort pulled out a small bottle filled with a misty blue potion and handed it to her. "Drink this. Lara shall take you to a room where you will be bathed and clothed. If I know Draco, he will refuse you immediately, but I have faith that you can change his mind with the right _persuasion_." A twisted smile curled his lips. "You know what will happen if you don't, but just to make sure—"

He yanked open her robe, bearing her naked body. Still clutching her by the hair, he pushed opened the doors and dragged her into the room. The sudden hoots of glee and crude comments that were thrown at Ginny almost deafened her as the men realised that a naked woman was now standing among them. She could feel their eyes burning into her flesh in a ravenous way that made her skin crawl with distaste. One of the men made a rude movement at her with his body, giving no illusions as to what it was he wanted to do with her.

Ginny closed her eyes, willing the disgusting voices to fade into oblivion.

"Now you know what your options are," Voldemort murmured from somewhere up above her spinning head, "and, believe me, I will know if you have failed."

"I understand," she said bitterly, clenching the potion in her hand. "I will not fail you."

**OOOO**

However little Ginny desired to think about the task that had been placed upon her, she could not deny that the sight of a hot bath had done much to restore her spirits. She had not washed in nearly five days, and the blood and grime that caked her body had only added to her frustrations. Now Ginny felt strangely calm as she lay relaxing in the bath, watched over by the eccentric Death Eater Lara.

So little seemed to matter in that moment, yet she was conscious of a dull ache in her heart. There was a part of her that knew she was betraying her friends and loved ones by helping Voldemort. It almost seemed like the ghostly voices of her family were ganging up on her in her mind, accusing her of being selfish and a coward.

_I have no choice_, Ginny thought to herself, more to alleviate her guilt and stop the incessant accusations than because she really believed it. She was doing what she thought was right, but she knew that there was still the choice not to help Voldemort. There was always a choice; it was just a question of figuring out which was the better option and having the courage to go through with it.

Ginny wondered if this was what Harry had felt like when faced with the discovery that he held the world's fate in his hands. Did he also experience the unexplainable weight crushing his chest, knowing that whatever decision he made could either help them win or lose the war?

She wasn't sure if she was ready to take up such a responsibility. She was not as selfless as Harry—try as she might—and she could not bring herself to let go of her own fear and feelings for the sake of others. She knew that she was now a key in divining the fate of the Wizarding world; her actions tonight could potentially destroy what little hope they had left for victory. However—and this was what she was counting on—by doing what Voldemort asked, she may yet discover a way to use it to her advantage.

There was no knowing what lay in the future. Even the greatest seers could not predict everything accurately. It was all chance, and Ginny was more than willing to try her chances if it meant escaping the demoralising punishment she would face if she refused to obey Voldemort.

Besides, getting Draco to give her a child was punishment enough. It killed her inside to know that she was going to try and force a man who hated her to have sex with her, for Voldemort had given little doubt that Draco was against the plan. She wondered why the blond had refused, not really understanding any of the motives that drove Draco to behave the way he did. He was an enigma to her—more so than the Dark Lord, who she at least somewhat understood.

Her eyes fell on the blue bottle sitting on the table next to the bath, and she once again pondered over what the potion inside it might be. She had sniffed it earlier and discovered a pleasantly sweet smell of honey and juniper. It seemed unlikely that Voldemort would poison her, yet she could not deny that the tiny bottle made her feel just a little anxious.

"Merlin, girlie, you _do_ take your time!" Lara exclaimed impatiently. "Stop your worrying over things and get that dirt and grime off your body. If you're hoping to seduce Malfoy, you're going to have to look a lot better than what you do now. He's not someone to accept the dregs just because they've been offered to him."

Ginny felt just a little offended by this speech. Was Lara calling her dregs? Then again, Lara was very beautiful – much more beautiful than Ginny could ever aspire to be, that was for sure.

Lara's hair was long and of a rich brown that forced her fierce blue eyes to stand out even more. Her creamy skin was flawless, except for the skull tattoo imprinted on her left forearm, and nature seemed to have designed her body with the goddess Venus in mind. No one could be proportioned as perfectly as Lara, but Ginny did not feel jealous as she might have. It seemed so trivial to worry about things like that now.

Ginny sighed heavily and washed the dirt out of her hair. "I doubt anything I do will get him to have me," she grumbled wearily. "I've never been with a man, and let's not forget that I'm his prisoner and he hates me. My chances in seducing him are about as great as my being able to click my fingers and spirit myself out of this dump."

A chuckle escaped the older woman's lips. Ginny decided that she liked it when Lara laughed. It made her seem somehow younger, and more like the woman she was supposed to be rather than the woman that war had made her.

"You clearly don't know anything about men," Lara said with another laugh. "No man, not even the most hardened cases, can withstand a pretty face and the inviting offer of a warm body to lie next to."

Lara leaned forward, and her eyes took on a suddenly serious expression that seemed to suggest a sense of urgency. "You need to make him believe that you want him. Don't hold back for a moment, no matter what happens. That is the only way you will ever get him to relent towards you. He is not quite as experienced in these matters as he would like to think, and he has all the disadvantages of being a hormonal young man stuck in a war surrounded by brutish men." The brunette's lips curved into a sly smile. "Play your cards right on this one, girlie, and you'll get him. He's a passionate man; I have a feeling that he will not be able to resist you for too long. _You_ just have to make sure you seize the chance when it is offered to you."

Ginny nodded her head, drinking in this wisdom without question. But then it occurred to her that Lara was also her enemy, and a frown suddenly crossed her lips.

"Why are you helping me so much?"

Lara tossed her hair over her shoulders. "Are you so sure that I am helping you? Perhaps I am merely ensuring the success of my master's plan." She smiled enigmatically. "You can never know for sure, and that, Ginevra, is why I recommend you not to trust anyone more than you need to. I am no threat to you now, but I would not hesitate to hurt you if you gave me a reason. Are we understood?"

Ginny nodded, though she still sensed that Lara was not as malicious as the others. Cynical, yes, but she was not malicious. Still, the woman was just as enigmatic as Draco with her cryptic phrases and odd ways.

"Can I ask you something?" Ginny asked curiously.

"What?" Lara responded shortly, losing some of her confiding tones as she reverted to her usual impatient manner.

"Why do you serve the Dark Lord?"

Ginny thought it prudent not to use Voldemort's name. It had occurred to her a long time ago that Death Eaters got unreasonably cross when one did.

"Why do you serve the Order?" Lara retorted without batting an eyelid.

Ginny did not hesitate. "Because they fight for justice and the good of our people."

Lara smiled slightly. She seemed to have expected no less.

"You have just answered your own question, Ginevra, and now I think our confidences are at an end. If you want to catch Draco before tomorrow, you should go to him now. He is resting in his room. I shall take you there, if you like."

Ginny nodded again, though she was still not satisfied with Lara's answer. She knew that the Death Eater was not telling her the full truth.

She dried herself with the offered towel and then slipped into a loose robe (though, thankfully, this one was clean). She picked up the bottle from the table and, throwing caution to the winds, uncorked the stopper and downed the whole lot. It tasted vilely sweet, despite its pleasant scent, and reminded Ginny of jelly-centred sweets that had been over-coated with sugar.

Ginny pulled a face of distaste and pocketed the empty bottle, then, quite suddenly, she felt a soft flutter of warmth pass through her abdomen. She instinctively placed her hand on her stomach, but the feeling faded as quickly as it had come.

She vaguely recalled reading about just such an effect from her healing classes, but she could not remember what the potion had been called. It had something to do with the moon, and—

Ginny froze, the answer slamming into her mind with such sickening intensity that she actually recoiled. It had been a fertility potion, created to ensure that a child would be produced no matter what the complications. Voldemort had been well prepared indeed.

"I guess there's no turning back now," Ginny muttered.

She could only hope that she would not live to regret this night.

**OOOO**

Draco lay on top of his bed with one arm draped over his eyes while the other rested casually against his bare stomach. His body was still tingling unpleasantly from the torture that he had gone under the previous day, but he could at least take some comfort in the fact that he was no longer wincing with every movement he made. His mind, however, was far from easy. There was a deep bitterness twisting inside him that was only added to by the knowledge of how much his master was using him.

If Voldemort had never used that stone to place the dark magic inside him when he was a baby, Draco knew that there would be no need for him to degrade himself and rape a girl he wanted nothing to do with. According to his master, the stone gave him the ability to curse her womb with dark magic, giving their child powers beyond what any could imagine. It would be an awe-inspiring sight, but Draco was in no mood to humour his master. He did not serve Voldemort out of fear or from blind worshipfulness; he served his master because he wanted power, and power he would have. If he ever did give in to the Dark Lord's command, it would not be to dutifully hand over the child for the sacrificial ritual. Draco would take that magic himself before he let anyone else have it—that was just his way.

Even now he found the thought of wielding such magic tempting. If he were to be completely honest with himself, the only thing stopping him from going through with the plan was his own scruples. He would not force her to give him a child. It just seemed too degrading to lower himself into raping a woman for power, no matter how seductive that power may be.

Draco heard the sound of the door handle turning. He lifted his arm away from his eyes to glare at whoever was stupid enough to disturb him, only to see none other than Ginevra Weasley herself walk into the room. His eyes narrowed as he watched her shut the door behind her and advance purposely towards him.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, standing up from the bed.

She was a prisoner; she was not supposed to be wandering around wherever she liked, let alone in his room. Her sudden arrival could not be a coincidence.

Ginny paused in front of him. She reached one shaking hand to her chest and undid the clasp that held her robe together. The thick material fell to the ground in a bundle at her feet, leaving her standing utterly naked before him. Goosebumps slithered along her skin with the cool rush of air, but she did not rub her arms to ease the warmth back into her flesh. Instead she just stood there silently before him, her eyes locked on his.

Draco swallowed hard, unable to deny how tempting she looked. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded angrily, frustrated with his own lack of control. "Put some damn clothes on now and get out!"

Ginny realised that Voldemort had been right in saying that Draco would refuse her, but she couldn't give up now. There was too much at stake.

She swallowed back her revulsion and took his hand in hers, placing it firmly against her naked breast. For a moment Draco was stunned out of his anger. He could feel her heart beating rapidly against his palm, and he let out a breath that he didn't know he had been holding. His eyes darted to hers, mesmerised by the torrent of emotions he could see in those chestnut irises. If he hadn't known better, he would have said that she had somehow caught him in some terrible enchantment.

She wordlessly moved his hand along her body, allowing him to feel the seductive softness of her bare flesh as her eyes invited him to take his pleasure in her where her heart refused. It was all too tempting, and, being just a man, Draco could feel the very real yearning to satisfy his lusts. But even amongst all the heady feelings he was experiencing, he could still recognise the wrongness of the situation.

This wasn't right. She was not supposed to behave this way. He had no doubt that Voldemort had put her up to this, though how his master had succeeded was a mystery to him. He knew that she hated him, yet here she was offering herself to him with no inhibitions. It was too much. No matter how hard he tried to deny the feelings growing inside him, he knew that he was losing what little rational thought he had left. It had been too long since he had been with a woman.

"Just give in," she whispered softly, moving his hand down to caress her hips.

Those words seemed to trigger something in Draco's mind, and he abruptly pushed her away from him.

"No!" He shook his head and took a step back from her. "I don't want this!"

Ginny sensed that she was about to lose him and took a step forward and kissed him full on the lips. She was too desperate to let him come to his senses, knowing that she would never get this chance again. She had to seduce him into sleeping with her, even if it killed her.

Draco groaned against her lips, unable to handle the temptation any longer, and returned her kiss with a sudden fervour. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss until Ginny herself began to lose her calculated control with the dizzying rush of pleasure that spread through her body.

Up until this point she had acted with the knowledge that she was seducing him simply because she did not want to suffer Voldemort's other form of punishment. But now, as she felt his lips trail down her neck in burning kisses, the reasons for why she had started this dangerous game of seduction began to blur in her mind.

Her eyes slid shut in pleasure, and she instinctively clutched his back as his hands caressed her skin in hungry lust. She felt strangely exhilarated by it all, and was quickly losing her head to the overpowering desire that burned within her. It was all so new and intense, and even she was not immune to the intoxicating feelings that pure physical contact could give.

Draco once again claimed her lips with an electrifying kiss, causing whatever rational thought she had left to slip away from her grasp. It no longer seemed to matter that she hated this man or that he had hurt her. Nothing seemed to matter in that moment. She was lost to her senses, her brain clouded with the lustful yearnings of her body, and she knew that she would not be satisfied until she had immersed herself completely in him.

He pulled her down with him onto the bed, fumbling with his pants while letting his lips silently speak of his growing need. She looped her arms around him, returning his impassioned kisses with enthusiasm. She was just as anxious for him to lose the clothing that stopped their bare skin from meeting as he was.

Soon there was nothing between them. Draco stared down at her through eyes darkened with desire as he lightly traced her naked thigh. He knew that he was insane to do this – that he was doing just as Voldemort wanted – but he found that very little of that mattered when she was opening herself to him so invitingly.

She ran her fingers through his hair, bringing his face back down to claim his lips with her own. Any hesitation he might have felt quickly melted with her kiss, and the game of seduction finally drew to a close as the two enemies became one.

**OOOO**

The room was bathed in shadows. Ginny could hear the steady breathing coming from the man beside her, though it was not even enough for him to be asleep. She was glad that he had not spoken to her, nor had he demanded that she leave. He had simply rolled onto his back and stared up at the roof, ignoring her completely.

Ginny rolled over the other way and curled her body into a defensive ball. A sickly feeling was twisting inside her, clenching her stomach between cruel fingers of guilt and revulsion. Her eyes stung unpleasantly, and she bit down on her fist to stifle the dry sob that threatened to escape from her lips.

Now that she was no longer lost to the heady lust that had ensnared her mind, she felt the full reality of what she had done hit her with a staggering force. It was one thing to have sex with a man she despised in order to save herself from further punishment, but to actually enjoy it? That was just sickening.

A sudden flood of hate surged through her – hate for herself and for the man who had caused such dark lust to twist her thoughts. How could she have betrayed herself like this? How could she have enjoyed what he had done to her? Was she really twisted enough to take delight in the physical pleasure a monster like him could give? This man had killed her brother, he had taken delight in torturing her, yet she had willingly, even desperately, moaned out his name in dark pleasure with the orgasmic rush her body had experienced.

Perhaps _she_ was the monster. Perhaps _she_ was the one with no decency and no feeling. After all, she was the one who had agreed to seduce him and pushed him to the point of defeat even though he had said no. She was the one who had taken dark delight in his touch, though she had not needed to. All of it was her choice, and she was ashamed and disgusted to admit that even now she still felt that dark attraction for the man next to her.

Voldemort had been right. Draco had corrupted her. She was contaminated with more than just his magic; she was contaminated with _him_.

Ginny knew that she would never be able to face those she loved again. If they ever knew what she had done – what she had felt. She could not face their judgement. They would never understand why, for even she did not, and she could not bear to see their smiles turn to disgust. They would look upon her as some common whore, and they would be right. She had sold her body to Voldemort and given in to the physical pleasure that Draco had given her. What hope did she possibly have of being forgiven after that?

A few tears rolled down her cheeks as she thought of Harry – sweet, selfless Harry. He would never love her now, and in a way she felt like she didn't deserve him. He was far too good for her – far too pure for her tainted soul.

Her body started trembling, and this time a small sob did manage to escape her lips, though she quickly smothered it with her hand. She had not been fast enough to stop Draco from noticing, however, and she felt him shift as he sat up in the bed.

Draco made a scornful noise in his throat. "Isn't it just like a woman to cry over something she caused herself."

Ginny only sniffed.

He rolled his eyes and glared down at his hands. No doubt she was sitting there blaming him for everything, but he'd be damned if he let her turn this back on him. He had not asked her to enter his room, nor had he demanded she take off her clothes and force her to let him touch her. She had done it all of her own accord. He didn't care what persuasions Voldemort had used on her, she had still brought this upon herself.

If anyone was the victim here it was him, which was about as laughable as the fact that the woman who had seduced him was now crying over it. He couldn't believe that he had actually given in to her, but he could not deny that there was something about her that no one woman that he had met possessed.

Perhaps it was an effect of the magic burning inside her, but there was a fire in her eyes that he found hard to ignore. She was fierce, but there was more than fierceness to her. Becoming one with her had been like becoming one with all the colours of the world. His soul had been opened to see beyond the dull and dark, awakening to the beauty painted within her like a blind man viewing the world for the first time. It had been nothing like anything he had experienced before, and he had been with enough women to know what he should have felt.

Was it possible that he had come into contact with that same power which Voldemort so desperately wanted? Could such beauty really cause so much misery?

"Tell me something," Draco said softly to the shadowed room. "What did Voldemort do to make you do this?"

"What does it matter?" came her bitter reply.

Draco fell silent. He supposed it didn't really matter; he was just curious to know what could have driven her to willingly seduce him. There was no doubt that Voldemort had been the perpetrator behind this, yet, for all her tears and bitterness, he knew that she had enjoyed it just as much as he had.

How strange it was that even hate could be blinded by lust, or was it more than lust? He didn't know; he didn't know anything anymore. She had confused him, and he hated to be confused.

Ginny let out another small sob. Draco gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the piteous noise coming from the woman beside him. Why did she have to keep crying? He couldn't stand it. It made him feel an emotion he had not felt in so long that he had almost forgotten its existence.

Pity.

That couldn't be right. He was not meant to feel sorry for her. She was the one who had trapped him into this situation, and yet—and yet he couldn't deny that somehow he did pity her. Her tears spoke to his heart in words long forgotten, unleashing something weak and disgustingly good inside him. The cold stone he had placed over his heart was finally cracking, chipping away one bit at a time with each small sob she uttered.

He'd heard it all so many times before. He'd seen the tears on countless faces, falling from eyes of many different shades and colours: women pleading for him not to kill their children; men begging him on their knees and sobbing their pathetic little hearts out as they clutched his fine robes; and children, those poor, innocent children that had just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, looking up at him through frightened eyes with small sobs catching in their throats.

Not once had those pathetic cries stirred a shred of pity in his heart. He'd only felt contempt for their weakness. So why did _her_ sobs trigger his suppressed feelings? Why did _she_ pull at his pity when no one else could?

He was known as Draco the merciless, Draco the ruthless, but now that infamous and unfeeling young man was actually feeling pity for a girl he had hated his whole life. It was almost disturbing, and he did not like it one bit.

Pity was for the weak, and he was not weak.

Someone knocked at the door.

"What is it?" Draco called, his eyes still watching Ginny's shadowed form.

"The Dark Lord wishes to see you," Lara's voice replied. "I've come to take the girl back to her cell."

Draco cursed under his breath. "What can he possibly want now?" he muttered darkly to himself, his brow furrowed in frustration.

He knew that he could not escape this meeting, so he got out of the bed and pulled on his clothes. His eyes flicked towards Ginny. "You should get dressed. Lara is an impatient woman, and I don't plan to leave you in here."

Ginny wiped the tears from her face and scrambled out of the bed to quickly pull on her robe again.

"Hurry up!" Lara ordered, giving the door an impatient kick.

"She's coming!" Draco retorted, casting an irritated glare at the door.

Ginny heard him mutter something about impatient women and his loathing of the whole female species in general. He turned and looked at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Don't speak of this to anyone, Weasley. There are a lot of people who would kill to get their hands on you if they knew how important you are to the Dark Lord – even more so if they realised what the child inside you has the potential to do. It's best if you keep all of this to yourself."

Ginny nodded. "I understand."

"Good."

Draco ushered her out of the room and shut the door behind them.

"Took you long enough," Lara muttered, standing with her hands on her hips. "You'd best hurry, Malfoy. The Dark Lord may be gleefully kicking his heels at tonight's success, but that doesn't mean he's going to be any happier to be kept waiting."

"What do I care? He can't do anything to me."

Lara shook her head. "You're playing a risky game, Malfoy. Don't bank on him always being lenient on you. One of these days your attitude is going to get you killed."

Draco shrugged a careless shoulder. "I'm not afraid of the Dark Lord."

"Suit yourself, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Draco only rolled his eyes and stalked off down the hallway.

Lara chuckled. "Boy can't control his temper at all."

Ginny stared after Draco with a frown on her face. There was just no working him out. He served Voldemort, yet he didn't seem to care about his master at all. It made no sense.

"Well, shall we go?" Lara asked.

Ginny nodded and followed Lara down the hallway.

"I take it you succeeded," the older woman said while watching her keenly. "I would congratulate you, but I hardly think that would be welcome."

Ginny said nothing.

Lara let out another of her small chuckles. "That bad, huh? I wouldn't worry about it if I were you, girlie. Now that you've done the deed, you're going to be well looked after. The Dark Lord wouldn't risk the child being hurt."

"How did you know about the child?"

"I tended to Draco after the Dark Lord had punished him for refusing to rape you. Let's just say that he was very vocal in his frustrations."

"Oh."

Somehow that discovery made Ginny feel worse. Draco had suffered because he had refused his master, yet she had given in and ruined both their lives. Of course, back then she had believed that she had no choice, but now she wasn't so sure. Time had given her a moment to reflect, and now she wondered if Voldemort had been lying just to get her to do what he wanted. It certainly seemed possible, but she would never know for sure. The deed had been done; nothing could change that now.

They stopped at the familiar wooden door that led to Ginny's prison.

"This is where I leave you," Lara said, lowering her wand and opening the door. "You should try and get some sleep while you can."

Ginny nodded and entered the room. The door was shut and locked behind her with a snap. Though sleep was far from her mind, she was so mentally exhausted and drained that she fell fast asleep as soon as she collapsed on the bed.

**OOOO**

Voldemort stood like an aging piece of waxwork. His pale face danced with the shadows cast by the flames floating near him, giving a sinister glow to the deathly tones of his skin.

"You called for me, my Lord?" Draco asked, inclining his head in a stiff bow.

For all his mutinous words, he had decided to heed Lara's advice. His master would already be unhappy with him; there was no point in pushing his luck.

A smile curved Voldemort's thin lips, and he walked slowly towards Draco, black robes hanging around him like a dark shadow.

"I have seen you grow into a fine Death Eater, Draco. You are the youngest in my ranks, yet you have proven yourself to be more thorough than any other of my Death Eaters. You do not hesitate, you do not take pity—" his voice lowered to the barest whisper, the crackling of the fire becoming louder with each moment "—and yet when I specifically asked you to help me with this great task, you refused."

Draco said nothing.

"However, thanks to Ginevra's determination – or should I say desperation," he corrected with a low laugh, "the deed has been done. Her situation is delicate, and I would not have her put at risk while she carries that child. That is why you, Draco, are going to watch her."

"My lord?" Draco exclaimed, momentarily surprised.

"You hate her, so I know it will be punishment enough for you to look after her, but I also trust that you will protect her. You will not rape her, and I know that you will not directly disobey my orders and kill her. In a way, it is almost fitting that you should look after her, considering the child is also yours."

Draco gritted his teeth. He could feel the dread filling inside him, his stomach lurching uncomfortably as he thought of being stuck in the company of the pale faced girl with the haunting chestnut eyes. There was a power in those eyes that made him feel like he was falling into oblivion, deep into his soul where he could not hide from the feelings he tried so hard to suppress.

He knew that she would destroy him.

"My Lord, surely there is someone more suitable? She cannot stay here, and—"

"She can stay at the manor with your mother." Voldemort chuckled to himself. "The two of them can be bitter together."

"And of my men? Who will lead them?"

Draco knew there was no point in arguing, but he would try all the same.

"There is always someone else to lead your men. I want you to stay at the manor and protect Ginevra. There are enemies even in our own ranks, and you know just as well as I do that they would do anything to get their hands on her. I trust that you will deal with them should they come to you."

Draco nodded, knowing the matter to be closed.

Voldemort smiled in what could almost be considered an affectionate way, except his eyes could never quite grasp the warmth of human emotion. There was always something wrong—something off.

"Do not look so bitter, Draco. Protect Ginevra for me and I will reward you greatly for your service."

"I will not fail you, my lord," Draco said with an ironic display of obedience.

"Good. Then you will take Ginevra to the manor tonight and protect her there until the child is born. You may leave now."

Draco gave another stiff bow and then turned on his heel and swept out of the door, his rage growing with each step that he took. Voldemort was the one who had wanted the stupid girl; he was the one who wanted the magic inside her, yet it was he—Draco—who had to do all the dirty work. He was the one who had kidnapped her and taken care of her; he was the one who had to have sex with her and give her a child, and now the Dark Lord had just foisted her onto him once again.

The blond stormed down the hallway and burst into Ginny's room. He froze upon seeing her sleeping on top of the bed, and a crease formed on his brow. He walked forward and gave her a small shake. She stirred and glanced up at him groggily. A gasp escaped her lips, and she quickly sat up and stared at him through wide eyes.

"What do you want?"

"I'm taking you to Malfoy Manor," he answered shortly.

Ginny frowned. "Why there?"

"Because the Dark Lord wishes it, now hurry up. I want to leave here before anyone notices what we're doing."

He grasped her by the wrist and pulled her to her feet. He dragged her none-too-gently down the hallways to the Disapparation point, then pulled her with him inside the booth.

His eyes briefly met hers, as if warning her not to try anything, and then he tightened his grasp on her wrist and lifted his wand in the air. He pulled her with him to turn on the spot, and the both of them vanished with a loud crack.


	4. Black Halo

**A/N: This chapter is for you, Leigh. I hope you like it. **

**Black Halo**

The manor was everything that Ginny had ever expected it to be. Cold. Beautiful. Intimidating.

Just like him.

Her eyes flicked towards her captor as he led her towards the front steps of the mansion. In this light, he appeared more like an angel from heaven than the Death Eater that he was; his hair glowing silver in the moonlight like a pale halo, and his features transformed into something ethereal – something beautiful. It would be so easy to believe this man with the deceptively angelic features was a figure of light, but Ginny knew it was an illusion. His beauty, so painful, so alluring, could only disguise the ugliness that lived inside. Behind the façade, this angel's halo was black. Black like his heart. Black like his desires.

Black like her own.

She was no better than him now. Her heart festered with ugly thoughts – thoughts of him. His corruption was a part of her. Try as she might, she could not stop thinking about what they had done together. She could not stop thinking about the way he had touched her; the way it had felt when he kissed her; the way his body had moved as one with hers . . .

Warmth throbbed from somewhere deep inside her body. Ginny quickly tore her eyes away from his face, her cheeks heating with the embarrassment of her own twisted thoughts and feelings. She was losing her mind. That was the only explanation for her sudden attraction to him. There was no sane reason for why she would want to be close to such a monster. He was a killer, a Death Eater. She hated him. She wanted to hurt him, and yet—

Her eyes stole another glance at his profile. She was surprised to find that he was staring right back at her. She flushed again, embarrassed that he had caught her staring, and lowered her eyes to hide from his penetrating gaze.

"What is it?" he demanded, glaring now.

"W-what?"

"I'm not stupid. You've been staring at me this whole time."

Ginny's blush ripened to a rich red. "I—I don't know what you're talking about."

He let out a soft laugh. "Oh, I see." He walked towards her in a lazy prowl, his steel eyes glinting mockingly. "You think because I had sex with you that things are different now – that we have a connection of sorts."

Ginny suddenly found herself trapped against the white marble wall, his arms locking her in like a cage. Her eyes darted up to his, the breath catching in her throat. This was not the first time he had caught her in this position, but this time she found that she was not afraid. Not really. She should have been afraid. It would have been wiser to be afraid. He was capable of hurting her –that she already knew from experience – but where fear should have lived, a new emotion had taken its place.

Fascination.

Draco's cold eyes locked on hers. She met his stare boldly, though, in truth, she couldn't have looked away even if she wanted to. He had her mesmerised – mesmerised and disgusted all in one.

An inexplicable power began radiating between them that grew more forceful with each silent second that passed. Her heart began beating faster of its own accord, her breath quickening with an expectant rush. She didn't know what she wanted him to do in that moment. She didn't even know what she wanted to do. All she could do was stare into those eyes – eyes that were so beautiful in their stormy mixture of grey, and yet still so cruel.

A slight frown gathered on his brow. His eyes narrowed, and then he abruptly pulled away, leaving her standing breathless against the wall.

"Don't expect anything from me, Ginevra," he said harshly. "I don't give a damn about you. To me, you're just another tool that will help the Dark Lord achieve his goal."

"I don't believe you."

"Oh?" He took a step towards her again, his eyes growing colder until they were like two slabs of ice. "And why would you think that?"

"You don't care about the Dark Lord's wishes. If you did, you wouldn't have refused him when he first asked you to take me. You wouldn't have told me to go away when I first came into your room." She met his grey eyes steadily, her voice quiet but determined in her conviction. "You don't care about him at all."

"I don't care about you either."

The words, so callously spoken, slashed through her like the brutal sting of a whip. There was no mistaking the venom in his voice. He was either a very good actor or it was true that he was just as heartless as she had thought him before he had corrupted her mind with his seductive presence.

Her confidence wavered, the dormant fear prickling to life again. She swallowed, dulled senses finally sensing the danger of the beautiful monstrosity before her. Her heart began pounding in a new kind of thrill – the kind that sent unpleasant shivers to tremor down her spine.

Draco let out a derisive laugh. "That's what I thought."

Ginny looked away, humiliated and slightly hurt. Maybe it was foolish of her to have thought that things might have changed between them, but she couldn't deny that things had changed for her. She had never been with a man so intimately before. He had been her first. Her only. What they had shared together had surpassed all boundaries of what enemies were supposed to do together. This had been no rape, no passive offering to the sacrificial altar – though it may have started that way.

In that moment when his lips had touched hers nothing had mattered at all. The world had simply ceased to exist. Prophecy and destiny had faded into darkness, and in their place was one illuminating constant: desire. Everything had become twisted after that. Lust, hate – it was all the same. Enemy had become akin to lover; pleasure synonymous with pain.

Naïve as she was, her brain had foolishly clung to that distortion; her inexperience in the matters of physical intimacy leading her to endow the man before her with qualities that she realised now he did not possess. Desire may have been enough to let him enjoy in the physical pleasure of her body, but it was not enough to save her from the callous nature of his own corrupted soul. His repugnance to Voldemort's dark intentions did not coincide with a redeeming goodness of his own. This fallen angel was just that: fallen. He served Voldemort for his own purposes. Somehow, that was more frightening than the thought that he might have served his master out of any real sense of duty.

Draco watched the emotions play on her face and indulged himself in a small smirk. "But how touching. You actually seem upset."

Her eyes flashed. "You make me sick."

"It didn't seem that way earlier. In fact, if my memory serves me correct, I seem to recall you moaning my name in anything but disgusted tones."

Ginny flushed, her hands clenching into two admirable fists. "You weren't so indifferent then yourself."

He laughed, really laughed, and Ginny was annoyed to find the sound incredibly attractive.

"Anyone can enjoy a whore when she's willing," he replied, smirking. "Especially one as exuberant as yourself."

Unbidden, humiliating tears stung at her eyes, but her glare remained fierce in its intensity. An indefinable expression graced his handsome face, and then he reached up and caught one of her tears with his finger.

"It seems I've made you cry," he observed, examining the teardrop glistening on his pale skin with interest.

Ginny gritted her teeth. "I suppose you get satisfaction out of that too, you twisted bas—"

"Tut, tut. _Language_. Ladies should not speak that way."

Her eyes narrowed. "I hate you."

"The feeling is mutual, believe me."

Ginny's bosom swelled. "Take me inside."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't want to stand here with you any longer. If I'm going to be forced to stay at your horrible house, then I assume that I'm going to be given another prison to live in. I want to go there now."

"I don't take orders from you."

"So you're going to stand out here with me all night because you don't want it to look like you went in on my orders? That seems kind of ridiculous."

Draco glared at her. "Shut up!"

Ginny smiled a little smugly. He may like to think of himself as the big wizard on campus – and in some ways he had every right to – but he was still only a year older than her. Twenty-one years hardly placed him above being reduced to a petulant boy.

"Don't think that just because I've taken you here I'm now going to be lenient on you," Draco said coldly. "You're only here because Voldemort wants you here; you're only safe because he wants you to be safe. When that child is out of you, I will be the first to wish for your death, but give me a reason to hurt you now and I will not hesitate. Remember that, Ginevra. Always remember that." His voice dropped an octave. "Or do I have to remind you what fear feels like?"

"I already know you're a monster. You don't need to remind me."

His eyes gleamed and his lips curved into a cruel smile. "Ah, but I think you do. You seem to be under the delusion that you can treat me however you will. I am your superior, Ginevra; I am your captor, and I will have the proper respect that is due to me."

He advanced towards her, eyes glinting wickedly. Her breath caught, this time out of real fear, and then he had his fingers wrapped tight around her throat. She stared up at him through wide-eyes, her heart pounding rapidly in her chest, so that the blood seemed to throb in her ears. Already, she could feel the strength in his fingers, the raw power hidden beneath that slender frame.

"Don't push me, Ginevra." He tightened his hold, the uncomfortable pressure taking on a more suffocating grip. "One wrong move and I can have you strangled in a heartbeat. It would be very quick, and very easy for me."

Feeling his hands pressing painfully down on her agonised pulse, she was quite ready to believe him, but she also knew this was an empty threat. He would not kill her. Not yet, anyway.

"You wouldn't."

"Oh?" He tightened his hold even more. "Why not?"

Ginny was beginning to feel sick. A roaring noise had started in her brain, and it was with a sort of nauseas disorientation that she met his sadistic gaze. "The Dark Lord wants me to be safe. You can't kill me even if you wanted to."

"The Dark Lord doesn't rule me. Nobody rules me."

"Then why do any of this?" she choked out. "Why follow him at all?"

Something flickered in his cold grey eyes. He abruptly released her neck and stepped back from her. Ginny slid to the ground, drinking in the air that had been denied her by his merciless fingers, her hands massaging her bruised throat.

"Tinky will take you to your room," Draco said shortly, as if he had not just been trying to strangle her to death.

A house-elf appeared as soon as he said the name, bowing so low to his feet that its nose scraped along the smooth stone. "Master called Tinky?"

"Take this girl to one of the guest rooms. I don't care which."

"Yes, Master." Tinky bowed again and then tugged at Ginny's robe. "Miss is to come with Tinky. Tinky will show Miss to her room."

Ginny struggled to her feet. Her eyes flicked back to Draco's, but his were closed of all expression. She couldn't decipher his thoughts at all.

A surge of hate spread through her veins, still conflicted with the fascination that so dangerously pulled her towards him. This time, however, hate won out.

"One of these days, Malfoy, you're going to wake up and realise that your life is bound in servitude. Whether it's to your precious Dark Lord or to your own sadism, your life is not your own, and it never will be. You will always be ruled."

Tinky tugged nervously at her robe again. "Miss must come. Miss must come now."

Ginny tore her eyes away from Draco's seething ones, and allowed herself to be dragged off into the house. She didn't care if he hurt her for saying that. It was the truth.

"Miss should not talk to Master Draco like that," Tinky fretted. "Miss will be punished."

"I've already been punished," Ginny responded, touching her stomach where she knew a child would soon grow. "No fate can be worse than that."

She would give birth to the child of a monster; a monster she feared, loathed and was dangerously attracted to. There was no fate worse than that. No fate worse than living in her own insanity.

He was bound to power, but she was bound to him.

**OOOO**

Draco stared up at the pale moon, his hands balled into fists. He had a right mind to go in there and punish her for saying that to him, but he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she had hit home with those words.

He didn't even want to look at her right now.

Those eyes were dangerous. Nobody should be allowed to have such speaking eyes. He could see right into her soul through those eyes, yet, in reverse, they made him see right into his own. She was always questioning, always forcing him to look at himself, but even more dangerous was the captivating power behind those brown depths.

He had lied when he said he didn't give a damn about her, but he had not been lying when he said that he would kill her if he had the choice. If he was handed a wand and told to kill the red-haired girl, there was no doubt that he would have done it with no hesitation. He was scared of her. Scared of her power, and scared of what she was doing to him. The only way he knew to counter fear was to kill.

She had made him feel pity, and now she was making him feel doubt. Everything he knew, everything he lived for – she had thrown it all in his face and demanded why. Why did he do it? Why was it worth it? What was the point?

In that moment, he was not sure of the answer.

"Draco?"

The voice was soft, calm, a welcome relief to the bitter and confused thoughts still echoing in his mind.

"Draco, is that you?"

He turned his head and met his mother's concerned blue eyes.

Narcissa Malfoy, widow to one of the most notorious Death Eaters, and one of the only traitors to ever be given the grace of a pardon from the Dark Lord, was not a woman that often showed her feelings. Her flawless, pale skin was as smooth as the marble stone under their feet, perfectly cool and perfectly composed, and very rarely did it change from that. Only twice had Draco ever seen her cry in his life, and the smiles and laughter she had used to share with him had long since died.

Draco couldn't help but feel the disappointment she felt for him hanging around them like a dark storm cloud whenever they would see each other. She hated what he had become. She hated that he killed, tortured and fought for a man who had taken everything from her. She never said it, but Draco could always see the anger, sadness and disappointment in her eyes; they were the only things that could not be hidden by her mask of impassiveness; the only emotion to be glimpsed in this coldly perfect woman.

Right now those blue eyes were filled with concern for her only son, something he had not seen her show in such a long time. Such a very long time . . .

It made his heart ache to see that soft emotion, and only made the confusion he was feeling stab more ruthlessly inside him. What would she think when she found out that he had got a girl pregnant so that Voldemort could sacrifice the child for its power? Would she hate him even more? Would she close off completely from him, hiding in her garden and refusing to see him as she had so often used to do when he'd first started his service to Voldemort?

He loved his mother – if there was even room for such an emotion in his contaminated heart. But he had not loved her enough to give up his ambition for power. Now he was not sure whether it had been worth it. He was so confused, and it was all _her_ fault.

Ginevra Weasley. She was the epitome of everything he despised, but he couldn't deny the haunting power locked in her deep brown eyes. She made him see himself for what he really was. A monster. A disease polluting everything that was good in the world, and he hated it.

This was showing weakness though, and Draco was not weak. He hated the word just as much as he hated the feeling. He hated that he could not pull himself together right now; that a mere girl had caused such instability in his perfect little world. He had been fine until she had come into his life; he had been perfectly ready to do whatever it took to get the power he so desired. But now . . .

"Why don't you come inside and sit down?" Narcissa said, placing a hand gently on his arm, her touch so foreign to him that he flinched. That seemed to sadden her – her eyes flickering with pain – but her face remained free of any creases to mar her impassive expression. "Come, Draco," she insisted, placing more pressure on his arm – the only sign that she was distressed by his strange behaviour.

Draco allowed himself to be steered into the house where he had grown up – a house full of memories both good and bad. His mother's grip remained firm but gentle as she led him through the dusky-lit corridors. She was silent and keeping to her own thoughts. It didn't surprise him. She was always silent to him now, always distant.

There had been concern, though. There had been more than just disappointment in her eyes. He could cling to that as a memory now, for he knew that once she found out about what he had done, he would never see it again. He knew that once she discovered his part in the ritual that he would lose the last shred of respect and love he still had from his mother.

They entered another darkened room. Narcissa brought the candles to life with one graceful wave of her wand, releasing his arm so that he could only vaguely recall what her touch felt like. A dim glow settled about them, lighting up the parlour where guests had once been brought to be entertained. Now the room was untouched and had a hollow feeling to it, with not a single extravagant object out of place. Somehow, that saddened Draco.

Had everything really changed so much?

He sucked in a breath and once more met his mother's gaze. She was watching him cautiously, as if afraid to press him for anything in case he would lash out at her. It would not be the first time he had done it. Violence was a bad habit of his, one he had inherited from his father. He did not want his mother to be afraid of him, though. He hated that she was always afraid, always silent, always so disappointed.

This was why he had not wanted to come to the manor. It was bad enough with Ginny shaking his resolve, but here he had to face his mother as well. She was a prisoner in her own home because she had tried to save him from going down a path of death, and how had he repaid that sacrifice? He had followed in his father's footsteps anyway.

Narcissa gestured for him to take a seat on the couch, taking a seat opposite him herself. She was still staring at him in that same questioning and yet cautious way. He found he couldn't face her gaze anymore. Hanging his head, he ran tired fingers through his hair, his brow furrowed in confusion. Normally he was so cool and collected, just like his mother in a way, but tonight he had been shaken.

_Was glory really worth all of this? Was power worth all of this?_

Those were the questions he had seen in his mother's blue eyes, and though she did not speak, her silent gaze was enough to let him hear her voice in his mind.

Truthfully, he was not sure if it was really worth it. He had been plagued with doubt ever since Ginny had awakened his slumbering memory as a baby. Tonight had been the icing on the cake, as it were. He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

Draco didn't want to give up the benefits of being Voldemort's right-hand man. He didn't want to lose that power. He could not break now. He couldn't. Not when he was so close to getting all he had ever wanted. Absolute, heady power was his to grasp; it was so close to his outstretched fingers that he could feel the gloriousness of it radiating tantalisingly close to his skin.

But he could not stop the painful confusion that twisted inside him. He could not forget those haunting brown eyes. He could not forget _her_, and he hated it.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

She had broken the silence, her voice smooth and calm.

"You wouldn't want to know," he replied quite truthfully.

Narcissa folded her hands in her lap, looking just like a perfectly still statue. Her eyes remained alive though, and they watched him with all the sadness a mother could carry in seeing her only son stray down a path so far away from what she had wished.

"Don't look at me like that!" Draco snapped defensively, feeling annoyed and like he had to justify his actions as he always did when faced with that expression. "I had no choice."

She seemed to hesitate, her mask crumbling just for a moment as her mouth descended ever so slightly into a frown.

"I have not seen you like this since you set fire to that Muggle orphanage." Her voice was soft, not calm as it normally was, but filled with genuine, heartbroken emotion. Her eyes locked on his, so alive, so filled with love and concern. "I'm worried about you, Draco. I'm worried about what is going to become of you."

Draco unconsciously shuddered at the memory. He had been eighteen years old, filled with bloodthirsty hopes to extinguish the Mudbloods that plagued their society. He had eagerly followed the band of Death Eaters to the orphanage, feeling no qualms in using his magic to set fire to the building. They had all laughed as they had watched the smoke rise and the flames grow.

Then the screaming started.

At first, Draco had been just as filled with sick delight as the rest of the people, but then the screams became more desperate; the children's shrieks growing clearer as the flames crept closer to their soft, little bodies trapped in the blazing building. That was when they started calling for the mothers they never knew or only vaguely remembered, and Draco had started to feel sick.

He had not stayed to watch the rest of the massacre; he had fled to his home, haunted by all he had seen and done. After that, he battled with his own doubts and feelings, but things happened and he soon forgot what it felt like to have pity and feel guilt. He soon forgot what it was like to meet frightened eyes and feel something more than sick pleasure. Before tonight, he had enjoyed what he did as a living. He had _enjoyed_ hurting people and watching them cower before him. It made him feel so strong, and that was beautiful in a way that mercy could never give. He still wanted it, he had always wanted it, but _she_ was taking it away from him. _She_ was making him doubt.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" Narcissa suddenly asked, snapping him out of his reverie. "For years I have silently watched you change from the son I knew to a cold and heartless man that would kill without remorse. I've watched you climb higher and higher in the ranks of the Death Eaters, and seen the decay of your soul with each new position."

Her eyes glistened with tears, the pent up feelings she had always kept from him finally spilling out in each fragile teardrop. It shattered him more to see his normally composed mother breaking than to hear her heart-felt words. He hated to see her cry; he'd almost forgotten how painful it was to witness.

"I'm tired, Draco. I'm tired of standing back and watching my son walk closer and closer to the edge. You don't even see how high the cliff you're standing on is, and you just keep walking blindly towards it. Please, will you not stop? Please, will you not just come back to me?"

Draco let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and clenched his eyes shut so that he would no longer have to look into those pleading eyes.

He was worried too. He was worried what was becoming of him. He was worried that he would turn out just like the man he so stiffly bowed too, filled with paranoia and unable to feel anything good anymore. Already, he had become so numb, but tonight had melted his cold heart and pierced the mercilessness that had so easily come to him. Tonight had brought back the human side of him – the side that he had so forcefully suppressed in his desire to be strong so that he could have the power and respect he so desperately wanted.

He just didn't know if it was enough.

There was no escaping the choices he had made, and he could not deny that even after everything that had happened, he still wanted to have the power Voldemort promised him. It was his weakness, the only one he allowed himself to have.

"I can't," he said softly, so softly it seemed the barest whisper.

"Draco, you always have a choice. Do not follow your father and think that you must obey that man."

"Father was loyal to the Dark Lord."

Narcissa did not deny it, but Draco knew there was more to that story than his parents had ever let on. There was always more to every story, just as there was more to his.

He would never have become the man he was if he had not been bullied into it. Fear had driven him to accept the Dark Lord's orders so as not to be killed, and a sudden liking for power had done the rest, so that in the end he actually enjoyed what he was doing. That was how Voldemort worked. He knew who would be tempted by his offers, even if they did not seem very delighted by the idea at first.

"I cannot force you to do anything," Narcissa said finally, her voice once more going back to the calm tones of the unruffled society woman, and her expression reverting to its impassive mask. "I only ask that you remember this night. Remember the feelings you felt and remember why you felt them. You are not a bad person, Draco. Do not feel that you are weak because there is still goodness in you."

"_There is still goodness in you!"_

_Draco took a shuddering breath as he aimed his wand at the boy kneeling on the snowy ground in front of him, the thin piece of wood hovering just inches from those emerald-green eyes. _

_The snow was falling hard around them, drifting down like frozen tears from a shadowed face to slice ruthlessly at their skin. Even though the blood trickled down Draco's pale cheeks in crimson trails, he continued to stare shakily at the teenage boy in front of him._

"_You don't have to do this," the boy insisted, cradling his bloody arm to his chest where Draco had wounded him. _

_Draco said nothing, his hand wavering in the wind in his indecision. He was not ordered to kill this boy; he had been ordered to bring him in so Voldemort could do the rest. It would be so easy – a simple Stupefy spell would do the trick – so why was he hesitating?_

"_You don't have to follow him anymore. We can help you escape. Please, just let me go."_

"_You think you can, Potter?" Draco yelled angrily, his wand still hesitantly drifting. "You think you can protect me when Dumbledore could not?"_

"_Yes!" Harry gasped out, taking deep rattling breaths._

_Draco stared at him – stared at him for what seemed almost an eternity, his eyes never leaving those green ones that pleaded with him so silently to just let it go. Let go of all the animosity and just help him. _

_Draco knew that if he did not let Harry go now, the boy would be killed by the end of the night. He knew that he held his rival's life in his hands. It would be his second murder, though he himself would not have killed anyone personally this time._

_The wand lowered slowly, and Draco reached out a hand to help Harry up._

"_NOW!"_

_Frightened and confused, Draco glanced about to see wizards racing towards him with their wands outstretched. It had been a trap. _

_His eyes met Harry's, who looked somewhat abashed and guilty. Arms grabbed Draco's body, holding him firmly in place, and someone punched him hard in the gut, forcing the breath to rush out of his lungs from the blow._ _Someone gripped his hair hard, twisting it painfully until Draco thought his whole scalp might be ripped off. _

"_Alright, Malfoy," the wizard holding him growled. "Where's your master hiding? Tell us!"_

_Draco glared at Harry, watching as the boy slinked off to greet Ron and Hermione. _

_He had been betrayed. He had been exploited because of his pity. He had been caught because he was weak, and as he listened to the mocking laughter ringing in his ears, he knew he would never allow the same mistake to happen again. He would not be weak . . ._

"No!" Draco shouted, standing up in his rage. "I will not be weak! I won't, Mother!"

Her expression remained calm, but he could see the fear staring at him from her eyes. She was trying not to show that she was afraid of him, and that only made him angrier.

She wanted to make him weak so that she could get rid of him; he could see it. She was afraid of him. She wanted him to die. She was just like everyone else.

His own mother was turning on him. He couldn't trust her now; he couldn't trust anyone. They were all jealous of him: jealous of what he was becoming, of the power he held. He was so great, so admired, so respected, and soon he would be more powerful than Voldemort himself. He would not give that up for anyone. Not for his mother, and not for that stupid Weasley girl! He wouldn't! He would not be weak . . .

"Draco, don't do this," Narcissa begged. "You're better than this. _Please_!"

His eyes narrowed, and in two quick strides he had her pinned against the wall, his hand locked tight around her throat. Her eyes widened, her mask crumbling before his eyes as panic seized her.

"Shut up!" He tightened his hold, hearing her gasping for breath in a satisfying way. "I won't be made weak – not by you, and not by anyone else. I'm not that helpless boy anymore. I'm so much more now, and I won't let you take that from me! I won't let you make me doubt!"

"You doubt because you know what you're doing is wrong!" Narcissa cried desperately, her hands scrabbling at his to release the sensitive flesh of her throat.

Frustration and confusion flashed in his eyes. He just didn't know. He didn't know anything anymore, but he did know that he did not want to be that weak, helpless boy. He didn't want to rely on other's mercy. He wanted to be the one in control. He wanted to be the one feared.

He would not be weak.

"Look what you've become," Narcissa whispered bitterly, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks.

Draco's lips curled into a snarl. "I've become great!"

Releasing her neck, he turned on his heel and swept angrily out of the room. Narcissa soothed her bruised neck and crumpled to the ground, tears slipping down her cheeks and bathing the cold stone beneath her.

For a moment, she had taken hope. She had seen the doubt flickering in his eyes, but then it had gone. He was a monster now, and she knew there was no hope in getting him back.

He was lost.


	5. Crimson

**Crimson**

_Blood. There was so much blood. It painted the skies, splattered the ground in glistening drops of rain, and as she stared at her hands, she saw that they too were stained with the murderous red. There was no escaping it. Everywhere she walked, a trail of crimson followed her in bloody footsteps, damning her in evidence of her own treachery. Eyes, glassy with death, stared up at her from expressionless faces – faces that had once inspired warmth and happiness inside her. _

_These had been her friends, her companions. Now their bodies littered the ground like the fallen leaves of autumn, left to rot along with the masked enemies she had so mercilessly slaughtered._ _Friend, foe – there was no distinguishing between the two. All opposition had to be destroyed, and with death perched on her shoulder like a grinning demon, she had succeeded. _

_The world was dead. It lay in its own cesspool of blood, murdered by the very hands that had been destined to save it. Only one had survived the massacre, and he stood before her now in all his painful beauty, holding out his hand for her to take. _

_He was her fallen angel, the snake that had whispered in her ear, and now he was tempting her with the most dangerous temptation of all._

_Himself._

_There was no escaping that alluring smile, no fighting the entrancing force of his grey eyes. His silent call was more captivating than the sirens of old, and, just like the first time, she found herself surrendering to his powers._

_Her hand found his, and as his fingers closed over hers, she knew that there was no going back._

_She was his._

Ginny sat up with a gasp, her heart still beating violently from the adrenaline that had surged through her veins. Swallowing against the scream that threatened to escape, she took a few calming breaths and clutched a hand to her clammy head.

It was a dream. Only a dream.

She collapsed back against the feather pillows and stared up at the shadowed roof, waiting for her heart rate to go back to normal.

Her new prison was very different to the last one she had occupied. The bed was soft, softer than any bed she had ever slept on, and the sheets were like liquid against her skin, they were so silky. Beautiful paintings and hangings adorned the walls, chosen with taste and elegance, as were the mahogany dresser and table that made up the rest of the furniture. It was a luxury she had never dreamt of finding, especially after spending nearly four years living in refugee camps. She had even been bestowed with a fine hairbrush and a few other necessities needed to keep her at least presentable.

If circumstances were different, Ginny was sure she could have appreciated all of this elegance and luxury. However, as she was only here because she was Draco Malfoy's captive and was acting as a breeding vessel for his child, it was more a mockery to her sufferings than anything else.

The room was exquisite, but it was still a prison nonetheless.

Ginny sighed. It was impossible to sleep now. The dream, so vivid, was still fresh in her mind. No matter how much she tried, she could not get rid of the image of her taking that hateful creature's hand out of her head, nor the accusing eyes of her friends staring up at her from decimated bodies that she herself had snatched the life from.

It was sickening, but it was frightening as well. The dream – or nightmare, as she was beginning to call it – had seemed all too real. She could still smell the acrid scent of blood staining her hands; taste the death that polluted the air; feel the longing in her heart when she had looked into his entrancing grey eyes . . .

Ginny shivered in the darkness. Was it possible that such a thing could happen? Could she really become so twisted and corrupted that she would murder all of those dear to her? Could she really betray everything she had fought for and take the hand of that monster now keeping her prisoner?

"I won't give in to him," Ginny whispered to the darkness, clenching her hands so fiercely that her fingernails left red crescents on her palms. "I won't!"

And though she said the words with conviction, the images of her nightmare continued to haunt her long until she finally fell into an exhausted sleep.

**OOOO **

Draco wiped the blood from his cheek and stared out into the barren distance. The sun was rising in a sinister red: a fitting image after the spectacle he had just made of himself.

Like an angel of death, he had swept through the small encampment of refugees during the night, butchering every man, woman and child who had come his way. The killing curse was too easy. He had wanted to hear them scream, and scream they had. Now he stood alone, the silence deafening after the symphony of pain that had only minutes ago serenaded his ears. His skin was glowing with the deathly crimson of his rage, but his eyes, although still dark with bloodlust, were oddly empty.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

"Do you feel satisfied now?" a smooth voice asked, slightly mocking.

Draco stiffened. He knew that voice.

"What do you want?" he snapped, turning to glare at the intruder.

Lara walked out from the shadows and stood next to him, an indefinable smile gracing her lips. "I could ask you the same question."

He scowled, turning away from her to face the bloodied sky once again. "If you've come here to play your mind games on me, you can leave. I'm not in the mood."

"Clearly, Lara agreed, eyeing the collection of disfigured bodies at his feet. "You seem to be quite the murderous one at the moment."

His jaw tightened. It was the only show of emotion he displayed.

"Leave," he said curtly, fastening his cold, emotionless eyes on her with unrelenting force. "Now."

Lara gave an involuntarily twitch. The hollowness of his eyes was disturbing. Eyes were supposed to be the windows to one's soul, but Draco Malfoy's eyes revealed no soul. He was empty. Empty and cold. Looking into his eyes was like looking into a void.

A low laugh vibrated in his throat. "Scared of me too, Lara?"

She quickly pulled herself together. "Is that what you want? For me to be scared of you?"

The amusement flickered, a flash of vulnerability passing over his face. He quickly looked away.

Now it was her turn to laugh.

"You don't even know what you want, do you?" Her blue eyes danced with mockery. "Poor little boy. So confused."

"Shut up!"

Lara smiled. "Why don't you ask yourself why you're here, Draco?" Her smile widened until it seemed more of a feral grin. "Or are you too afraid?"

His hand trembled slightly. He clenched it into a fist to stop it.

"Well?" she persisted, moving towards him in an almost predatory fashion. "Why did you come here against the Dark Lord's orders? Why did you kill all of those people when you had not been given any specification to do so?"

His eyes darted to hers almost involuntarily, a haunted expression creeping into the grey.

"It's a simple question, Draco. All you have to do is ask yourself why."

Draco clenched his fists tighter.

That was the one question he had been avoiding; the one question he had been trying to drown out ever since _she_ had asked it. He had sworn to his mother that he would not be that weak, helpless boy anymore, but no matter how defiantly he proclaimed his greatness, or how great he had yet to become, he could not stop that question from festering in his mind.

_Why?_

He didn't want to face the answer. He couldn't face it. And so, unable to bear being in either Ginny or his mother's presence any longer, he had fled like the coward he was, hoping to drown out his uncertainty in the screams of his enemies; needing to consolidate his reasoning through the heady power he knew he would feel when bathed in their blood.

He had might as well have stayed at the manor.

On the outside he'd seemed just as unfeeling as he always was when attacking an encampment of nomads, but on the inside he'd been falling apart. He'd felt sick, each death staining his hands only making the decay of his soul worse, yet like a drug addict he hadn't been able to stop. It was a vicious cycle of death and pain; he lashing out at the weak and innocent to hide his own insecurities, while at the same time only feeling more ill with every spark of life he quenched.

He hadn't known what else to do. He still didn't know how to stop the feelings growing inside him. He hated it. He hated everyone. He would kill them all, leaving nothing left but a bloody, body-littered world, and yet he knew it would never be enough. No matter what he had sworn to his mother, no matter how hard he tried to re-claim that heart of stone, he could not stop the cracks that chipped away from the inside to slowly shatter his resolve.

Doubt had crept into him again like a poison, and this time there was no cure.

"Well, Draco?" Lara continued, stopping directly in front of him, her eyes trapping him in place. "Why did you do it?"

His knuckles burned white.

"That's none of your business," he retorted coldly, narrowing his hollow eyes on her – eyes that had become steadily hollower with each life he had stolen.

"Oh, but it is," Lara smiled. "You forget who I am."

Draco made a frustrated noise. "What do you want from me?" he demanded, taking a hasty step towards her, his wand tightly gripped in his hand. "I'm sick of this! I'm sick of your mind games!"

Lara stood her ground, not a tremble creeping into her expression to disrupt her equanimity. If anything, she seemed rather satisfied to see him finally cracking under the pressure.

"Why do you keep running, Draco?" she persisted, pressing her advantage. "What are you so afraid of?"

"_Shut_ _up_!" He levelled his wand on her face, his eyes wild with emotion yet still holding that horrible emptiness.

Her lips curved into a smile. "Are you going to kill me too? I wouldn't try that if I were you."

He held her amused gaze for a moment and then wrenched his wand away, his expression closing off to become like stone. "I'm leaving."

"Stop."

Draco paused, his eyes flicking back towards her. "What?"

"I want you to promise me something," Lara said seriously, all trace of amusement gone from her expression.

"I'm not promising you anything."

"Fine, then at least give me the assurance that you won't leave Ginevra unprotected again."

A crease formed on his brow. "Why? What do you care about her?"

"It's too dangerous for her to be alone like that with only your mother for protection. She's important, Draco. She must not be harmed."

"What do I care? She means nothing to me. It's only the Dark Lord who cares about her."

"All the more reason for you to protect her."

"I'm not afraid of him."

"You should be. I've warned you before not to take him lightly. You would do well to heed my counsel."

His eyes narrowed. "I'm not afraid of your cryptic messages either. Men make their own fates. I don't need you to divine mine."

Lara gave a tinkling laugh. "I don't need a crystal ball to tell you that the Dark Lord is tiring of your disobedience. He knows you left the manor against his orders, Draco, and he isn't happy about it either. You're not the most important pawn in his games anymore. All he cares about is Ginevra. Screw this up and he will punish you."

"What are you suggesting I do?" Draco sneered. "Go back and beg him on bended knee for forgiveness?"

"No. I'm suggesting you stop running from your own demons and return to the manor to make sure Ginevra has settled in comfortably. The Dark Lord is coming to see you later. He will not be so angry with you if he sees that she is being well looked after."

"As if he cares. He'll kill her after this is all done, anyway."

"That may be, but for now she is the vessel that will carry the child he wants. That means her needs must be met and she must be kept safe." Lara levelled her eyes on him, her expression grim. "You're in a precarious position, Draco. Don't push the Dark Lord by acting stubborn now or you may just find yourself as the one lying disfigured in a pool of blood at his feet."

Draco met her gaze coolly. "Fine," he relented. "I'll make sure she's comfortable to satisfy the Dark Lord, but don't think I'm doing this for you. I'm tired of your mind games, Lara."

"You'll thank me for it one day."

Repressing the urge to roll his eyes, he simply raised his wand and then Disapparated with a loud crack.

Lara stared at the spot where he had stood, her mask of calm shattering for a moment to reveal true worry. "Prove me wrong, Draco," she murmured, thinking of the hollow expression she had seen in his eyes. "If men make their own fates, then prove to me that you can change yours."

**OOOO**

Ginny groaned, fighting against the persistent fingers of the day trying to lift her eyelids. The warm cocoon she had made for herself was far too comfortable to leave, but a chorus of twittering birds soon had her sitting up in the bed, if a little grudgingly.

She took in the room, noting again with reluctant admiration just how fine everything was. It was too beautiful in a way. Certainly nothing she was used to.

Sighing to herself, Ginny shoved the covers off her body and slid out of the bed. She opened the curtains and for a moment was held spellbound by the view that greeted her sleepy eyes. The grounds were magnificent in all their tragic beauty, still clinging to the colours that had all but faded from the world. But there was a loneliness painted on this canvas of nature. This was a dream living on its last breath: abandoned, nearly forgotten, and steadily sinking further into the decay that was holding the rest of the world captive.

She stared out into the distance, admiring the rugged hills that seemed to go on forever, fittingly shadowed by a veil of grey. The sky was always on the verge of crying lately, but today there was something touching about its sadness. Today, it seemed fitting when embracing the forlorn landscape below that was not quite ravaged of its splendour.

It was then that she remembered that this was _his_ land, and it was this same land that was keeping her prisoner. She couldn't bear to look at it then, finding the tragically beautiful landscape reminded her too much of him, and quickly turned away from the window.

Ginny hugged her arms to herself and moved back towards the bed. She sat down, a glum expression settling on her face. What on earth was she supposed to do now? For nine months she was expected to stay here, and then what? Hand over the child and die? Just give up?

"There has to be a way to get out of this," Ginny muttered. "I refuse to believe I'm stuck here."

But no brilliant plans were coming to her mind as to how she could escape. Her creativity was all dried up, for even if she did escape, she had no wand to Disapparate. She would be forced to travel like a Muggle, and who knew how long that would take. She might even get caught again, and then she would be in an even worse situation.

Ginny sighed and collapsed back against the bed. It was then that she noticed there was a note sitting on the bedside table – one she knew had not been there the night before. Frowning, she reached over and picked up the note. It was written in an elegant hand that she did not recognise, and had only one line:

_You will find everything you need in your room. The bathroom is also yours._

Her frown deepened. The note sounded far too polite to be Draco's, but then who else could have written it?

Screwing up the note with a dismissive shrug, Ginny stood up from the bed and headed towards the promised bathroom, which she guessed must be found behind the door to her right. Once inside, she was quite ready to forget the fact that she had been kidnapped and was being held prisoner by Draco Malfoy. Even someone as stubborn as Ginny could not resist the temptation of relaxing in a bath that could have comfortably fit two grown adults, not to mention was the cleanest tub she had seen in several years.

Almost lovingly, she turned on the gleaming taps and watched the water – not brown or slightly murky, as she was used to – rush forth in a natural flow to start filling up the brass tub. In less than a minute, the bath was full, helped by the magic that had been stored inside it, and was already beginning to fog up the room with steam.

Ginny slipped off her robe and stepped into the tub, letting out a contented sigh as she immersed herself in the hot water. She closed her eyes, just lying there, letting all thought melt away from her mind. This time she was just going to relax and not worry about anything. If she was going to be trapped here, then how wrong could it be to indulge in a little luxury?

It was only when she was beginning to resemble a shrivelled prune that Ginny finally decided to get out of the bath. She grabbed the bath towel from the rack, holding it to her dripping body for a moment just to feel its softness. She didn't think she'd used a towel this fluffy before in her life.

Ginny dried herself in a leisurely way before wrapping the towel around her body and heading back to the main part of the bedroom. She opened the drawers and almost cried in delight when she saw the underwear and bras – all, surprisingly, in her size – along with some petticoats and stockings.

"Thank Merlin!" Ginny exclaimed, pulling out a matching pair of undergarments from the drawer.

She had got rather sick of wandering around in only a robe – it did get rather breezy, after all –and was even more delighted to find that the undergarments were very comfortable. No ridiculous bits of lace that barely did a thing. No, whoever had bought these items for her had chosen them with practicality and taste.

A rummage through the other drawers revealed a variety of nightwear, but Ginny was more than a little disappointed to find that there were no jeans or, indeed, casual clothes of any kind. Her eyes swung around to the wardrobe. She walked over, pulling back the wooden handles on the doors, and felt her jaw drop as she took in all the dresses that had been put up for her use. It was like she had just walked into a fairytale, only this was a rather twisted one.

Ginny trailed her fingers lightly along the expensive materials, stopping when she came to a straw coloured dress. She pulled it off the rack and was all ready to put it on when she suddenly hesitated. It did seem stupid and immature to keep wearing her robe, especially as it wasn't even hers anyway, but somehow it felt wrong to wear these dresses. They were beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful dresses she had ever laid eyes on, but these dresses did not belong to her; they belonged to the Malfoys, and the thought of wearing them seemed almost as if she were allowing herself to be seduced by their luxury into submission.

The dresses may not be the striped outfits of Azkaban, but the message was the same. These were the garbs of a prisoner, and she refused to be anyone's prisoner.

Ginny put the dress back on the rack and stepped away from the cupboard, knowing her mind was made up. It was a small form of rebellion, but it was all she had left to fight with now. She would use the bath and the underwear – she didn't think she _could_ give those up – but she would not wear these dresses.

She slipped her old robe back on and then started brushing her hair, smoothing out all the accumulated knots in the red tresses. A frown gathered on her brow as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. There was something on her neck. The crease on her brow deepening, Ginny moved closer to the mirror and peered at her neck. It was only faint, but there, bruising her now pale skin from where the lack of sunlight and nourishment had stolen its colour, was the unmistakable outline of her captor's hand.

Her fingers lightly traced the handprint, following the splotchy bruises that were blossoming in purples and browns where Draco's fingers had squeezed too hard on the sensitive skin. It was not the first time he had hurt her, but seeing that creature's hand imprinted on her skin made her feel even more sickened than when he had broken her fingers. This was like being branded, as if he had marked her as his own.

Ginny clenched her hands into fists and abruptly turned away from the mirror, sitting back down on the bed. Tears were burning in her eyes, furious, hateful tears, and once again she could feel her nails piercing the soft flesh on her palms.

"I hate him," she whispered, her eyes burning holes into the carpet. "I hate him. I hate him. I hate him."

She hated what he had done and what he was still doing to her. More than that, she hated the fact that she could not get him out of her head.

The door swung open. Ginny stood up in surprise, quickly rubbing her eyes to hide her tears, and felt her stomach drop as she found herself face-to-face with the one man she had not wanted to see.

"Don't you ever knock?" she demanded by way of greeting, throwing him a glare.

"No," Draco replied, shutting the door behind him and advancing into the room. "Not for you anyway."

He stopped in front of her. Ginny had to fight the urge to take a step back.

"What do you want?" she snapped, folding her arms tightly across her chest. The move was defensive but it made her feel more in control. She didn't like to feel weak around him.

His cold grey eyes swept over her body and then narrowed on her face. "Why are you still wearing that robe?"

"I don't want to wear those dresses," Ginny retorted, lifting her chin to meet his hard gaze with what some might call foolish defiance. It was almost as if she were taunting him to punish her.

Draco took a step closer towards her. "Are they not good enough for you, Ginevra?" he asked, voice dangerously soft.

She took an involuntarily step back. Her resolve wavered under the power of his piercing eyes and the subtle threat lacing his voice, but she clenched her fists tighter and met his gaze steadily enough.

"I'm not your doll to be made up. I refuse to wear those dresses."

Draco took three more steps closer, effectively trapping her against the bed. Ginny knew that if she took one more step back, she would end up toppling over backwards herself.

"You _will_ wear those dresses, Ginevra," he ordered, voice still disturbingly soft. "The Dark Lord is expecting you to be well-looked after, and that means dressing in a way that would gain his approval." A smirk tugged at his lips. "Besides, my mother chose those dresses for you herself, and we wouldn't want you to hurt her feelings now, would we?"

"I'm sure you do a fine job of that yourself," Ginny responded, falsely sweet.

Draco's jaw tightened. For a moment, Ginny thought that he was going to hit her, but instead he yanked at the clasp holding her robe together. The thick material dropped to the floor with a soft thud, leaving her standing only in her newly acquired undergarments. Furious and humiliated, she raised her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist easily and tugged it roughly behind her back, drawing her close to him with his free hand until her body was pressed up against his.

"Let me go!" Ginny exclaimed, struggling against him. She winced as he dragged her arm up higher against her back, and had to bite down on her lip to stop from making a noise.

"What have I told you about disrespecting me?" Draco said smoothly, his face so close she could feel his warm breath brushing against her cheek

"I don't respect monsters," Ginny spat, desperately trying to wrench herself free, yet only succeeding in causing herself more pain.

Draco pulled her wrist up just that little bit further until she thought her whole arm might pop out of its socket. She really did let out a whimper then, and her eyes began to fill with hot, stinging tears.

"Let me rephrase that," he said calmly, increasing the pressure on her arm bit by bit. "Do that again and I will break every one of those pretty little fingers of yours. Do you understand?"

"Go to hell," Ginny panted, too immobilised now to break free even if she wanted to.

He laughed and yanked her wrist up even further until he heard her sharp gasp of pain. "You may just get your wish, Ginevra," he whispered, lips almost grazing her ear, "but not before I take you down with me."

Ginny stood frozen, her eyes wide and her heart pounding violently against her chest. He was so close that she could feel the very warmth of his body feeding into hers, but then he released her from his hold and she found herself falling face-first into the bed.

"Find a dress to wear," he ordered, watching her dispassionately as she sat up properly on the bed and glared at him. "And just to make sure that you don't disobey me again—"

He calmly pointed his wand at the robe on the floor, which instantly burst into flames. Ginny watched the orange heat licking at the black material until there was nothing left but a few cinders.

That was it. Her small fit of rebellion burned to nothing in a mere matter of seconds, and all she had to show for it was a bruised wrist and an aching arm.

Draco cleaned up the remains and then pocketed his wand again. "Get dressed," he said shortly, "or do I have to make you do that as well?" A smirk tugged at his lips. "Who knows? I might even enjoy it."

That got Ginny standing up. She stalked past him to the wardrobe, her cheeks warming at the low chuckle that followed her. Wrenching the straw-coloured dress off the hanger, she slipped it on over her head and began doing up the back, her teeth clenching in her frustration.

Draco watched her with a somewhat amused smirk playing on his lips. He could see her struggling with the higher buttons, and, deciding to take pity on her, walked over and pushed her hands away.

"I can do it myself," she gritted out, making a move to step away from him.

"Don't be ridiculous," he retorted impatiently, holding her in place, and then finished buttoning up her dress.

Ginny turned around once he had finished and glared waspishly up at him. "There. I'm wearing the dress. Are you satisfied now?"

Draco was about to reprimand her again for her lack of manners when he spotted the same collection of bruises on her neck that she had discovered earlier. Frowning, he leaned forward and pushed her hair away from her neck to examine the marks more closely.

"What are you—" Ginny began, but stopped when she felt his fingers gently glide over the bruises.

Her heart gave an odd sort of flutter at the feel of that soothing touch against her skin, but she ignored it and stared at him warily instead. He was not supposed to behave in a tender way towards her. It was just wrong. His eyes flicked to hers, and she was relieved to find that they were just as cold and emotionless as ever – almost hollow, in fact. It was somewhat disturbing when she thought about it.

Draco reached his hand into his pocket and drew out his wand. Ginny wondered if he was going to hex her – it was just like him to be gentle and then rough – but he simply conjured a small jar. She stared at him questioningly, watching as he once again pocketed his wand before unscrewing the lid of the jar. There was some sort of strange cream inside it, which she thought looked faintly familiar. He dipped his fingers into the mixture, then placed the jar on the cabinet.

"What's that?" she asked, feeling just a little bit nervous now.

Draco met her gaze coolly and then tilted her chin up with his free hand, holding it there firmly as he started applying the cream to her bruises. He was unnervingly gentle. To Ginny, it was almost as if he were caressing her.

As if on cue, her heart started beating faster and her breathing quickened. She knew he would be able to feel the pulse in her neck throbbing with the rapid flow of her blood. It was embarrassing in a way, but except for shooting her a calculating glance, he took no more notice of her body's behaviour than he had for her previous glares and merely continued with his gentle ministrations.

Ginny found it all very disorientating. There was just no placing her finger on him. He was so unemotional, so horrible, yet there were times like now when he could be so gentle. It was as if he were two completely different people.

She found herself staring intently at his face, admiring the strong jaw line, the sharp, handsome features, and those cold grey eyes. Everything about him was piercing, almost painful, yet still so inexplicably beautiful. It was easy to see why she had been so fascinated by him – why she was still dangerously attracted to the enigma that he presented.

His fingers paused on her neck and his eyes once more flicked to hers. Ginny found that she could not look away.

They exchanged no words, no glares; they just stared at each other. Stared with an intensity that seemed to draw their bodies closer even though they made no movement at all.

Finally, he let his hand drop from her neck and took a step back. Ginny let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding and placed her fingers against the spot where he had just been touching.

"What did you do?" she asked, still trying to pull herself together after the intensity of their silent exchange.

"I removed your bruises."

"Why?"

She hadn't even meant to ask him, but it just seemed so strange that he would go out of his way to heal her that she ended up blurting it out.

He laughed. "Don't think I did it for you. The Dark Lord is coming here later today and he wants to see you. He wouldn't be very happy if he saw those bruises on your neck, and I rather like my body the way it is."

"Oh."

She should have known it would be for something selfish.

Draco considered her through steely eyes. It was strange how easily he lost all emotion.

"My mother tells me that you haven't eaten today. You should know better than to starve yourself. I'll have Tinky prepare you some food. In future, I expect you to come to eat your meals when they're served."

Ginny blinked. "You're allowing me to leave my room?"

"The door was never locked, Ginevra," Draco responded, rolling his eyes. "I don't need to keep you locked in this room to stop you from leaving the manor."

Not even waiting for her reply, he turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Ginny standing a little foolishly beside the dresser. Her brow wrinkled into a frown as she stared at the door. She just didn't understand him, and somehow she doubted she ever really would. He truly was an enigma.

Sighing, she sat back down on the bed. Well, one thing she knew for certain was that she was not the only female living in the house. Apparently, Narcissa Malfoy was also here, and Ginny guessed it must have been the blonde who had written the note.

A small pop sounded in the room. Ginny turned to see the same house-elf that had helped her yesterday bearing a tray of food in its scrawny hands.

"Your food, Miss," the elf squeaked, offering her the tray.

"Thank you," Ginny said, taking the tray. She really was quite hungry.

Tinky bowed and then vanished with another pop.

Ginny began picking at the food, her thoughts idly straying back to her captor. He had seemed different today, though she couldn't quite place why. It was true that he was still his usual hateful self, despite those odd moments of gentleness; it was also true that there had been many moments where she would have dearly loved nothing more than to hex him into oblivion. But something had been different. She didn't know what it was. All she had really managed to pick out was that he had seemed more tired than usual, and there was that brief moment where she had felt like she was being sucked into a void when meeting his eyes.

A chill ran up her spine at the thought. Normally she found his eyes so entrancing, despite their coldness and cruelty, but seeing that hollowness in those grey irises had unsettled her. It was like staring into the eyes of a person who had suffered a Dementor's kiss.

Shivering again, Ginny promptly directed her thoughts to less disturbing matters. Unfortunately, that only led her to fret over the fact that she was going to have to face the Dark Lord later. She may not necessarily be frightened of her captor, but Voldemort was a completely different story. Ginny was not looking forward to seeing him again, and could only be thankful that he could not do anything to her now that she was carrying Draco's child. It was a small comfort, but it was a comfort nonetheless.

Her eyebrows drew together into a frown. Draco never did tell her what Voldemort actually wanted from her. Actually, when she thought about it, he didn't seem too enthusiastic at the thought of seeing his master either.

She had no idea just how accurate she was.

**OOOO**

Draco lifted his face from the stiff bow he had been stooped in and stared into the red eyes that watched him, noting the small smile curling those unnaturally thin lips. It was a smile that would have chilled anyone else into cowardly grovelling, but Draco did not fear his master. Maybe once he would have fearfully knelt at his master's feet in the hopes of being spared punishment, but one does not gain the title of ruthless and merciless by being filled with such useless fear. Draco had become immune to it all. He was, as his mother and Ginny had called him, a monster, and monsters did not fear other monsters.

Voldemort seemed to admire that in him, though, rather than punishing him for it. Anyone else would have understood why, but Draco was far too proud to see that the real reason Voldemort enjoyed the change he had gone through was because he himself was the one who had corrupted the young Malfoy. It was like an artist looking at the finished portrait, admiring and praising his own skill in glowing terms. Draco was Voldemort's finished work of art, and the darkness and corruption that oozed from the young man was just what Voldemort had wished for.

He was a masterpiece. Unfortunately, he had also become rather rebellious as of late.

Voldemort stared at Draco through nightmare eyes. "You have disobeyed me, young Malfoy."

It was not a question, nor was it said angrily. He was just stating a fact – a fact they both knew to be true.

Draco said nothing, for Voldemort expected nothing. His master preferred to do all the talking, and Draco was more than willing to let him. Draco did not wish to explain himself. He did not wish to explain his moment of weakness or the sickly hollowness that even now lingered within him after all those deaths, creating a gnawing doubt in his mind.

"I gave you specific orders," Voldemort continued. "I told you to stay here and take care of Ginevra Weasley, and yet—" his eyes narrowed "—and yet you chose to leave the very night I told you to take her to your home, leaving her alone when she was at her most vulnerable."

Draco's jaw twitched. He could have given plenty of justifications, but he knew they would all be worthless.

"I'm beginning to wonder if you're even worth keeping," Voldemort commented, watching him rather like a scientist choosing where to start dissecting. "You're a wonderful asset – I don't deny that – but I don't like disobedient servants. Do you know why I don't like disobedient servants, young Malfoy?"

Draco remained silent.

Voldemort gave a soft laugh and gently took the young man's chin in his hands, twisting the handsome face up to meet his crimson eyes. "I'll tell you why I don't like them. It's because these servants, these insignificant maggots that I so tenderly take under my wing, always have a habit of thinking that they can take my place as the Dark Lord." Red stared intently into grey. "But you wouldn't do that, would you, Draco?"

"No, my lord," Draco said, careful to keep his voice even.

Voldemort considered him for a moment. "I wonder?" he mused out loud, still staring intently into Draco's eyes.

Draco began to feel the first prickles of panic. What if the Dark Lord saw through his carefully laid barrier of thoughts?

"You've always been a slippery one – just like your father," Voldemort observed, an indefinable expression on his face. "I almost think it would be better just to kill you now. It would be a shame to waste all that talent, but I'm beginning to sense a rather unpleasant thought in you, dear Draco. Why, I'm beginning to believe that you might actually be a threat to me."

Draco's stomach lurched. No matter what he had said to Lara on the nomad plains earlier that day, he had no wish to die. Not at age twenty-one, anyway.

He was not afraid of Voldemort, but then he had never truly felt threatened by his master either. Now, however, he was forced to realise that Lara had indeed been right. His position was precarious, and he knew that he would have to do everything in his power to stop his master from taking that final step.

"My lord, you must know that I would not betray you," Draco said, hoping he didn't sound too desperate – that would only consolidate his master's suspicion. "It was foolish of me to leave Ginevra, but you know that no attacks were made, and she is perfectly well."

"That is true," Voldemort acquiesced. "Perhaps I will give you another chance. It would be such a shame to waste your magic, after all."

Draco almost sighed in relief, but kept his expression impassive enough. "Thank you, my lord."

Voldemort smiled a rather disturbing smile and patted Draco's cheek. "There, young Malfoy, you see how merciful your lord is to you." He pulled his hand away and stepped back from the younger man, aiming his wand at Draco's face as he did so. "Nevertheless, one must let the lesson sink in."

Draco barely had time to gather his faculties together before he was crippled to his knees, clutching his head in pain at the burning needles stabbing over and over again into his brain. Voldemort watched him suffer for a moment, somewhat impressed that the boy hadn't screamed yet. He increased the power behind the spell.

It was too much. The sheer agony of the curse stripped all pride from Draco and he found himself writhing on the ground, so disorientated by the pain that he barely realised the screaming was coming from his own mouth.

"Ah. It's like music to my ears," Voldemort remarked, smiling in twisted satisfaction.

The door burst open. Voldemort turned, rather surprised, and saw Narcissa enter the room. She took one look at her son twitching uncontrollably on the floor and then turned desperate eyes on the man before her. Draco was the only one who could ever crack her mask of iron calm, and right now that mask of impassivity had well and truly cracked.

"Stop it!" she cried. "You're killing him!"

"Save the dramatics. I'm not going to kill him."

Narcissa winced as her son let out a fresh cry of pain. It was clear she wanted nothing more than to rush over to him and take him in her arms, but her eyes remained fixed on Voldemort. She'd already learnt her lesson about interfering.

Voldemort smiled cruelly at her, enjoying the way she twitched every time Draco made a noise. But he didn't really want to kill Draco, nor did he feel like having a vegetable for a servant.

Still with his eyes locked on Narcissa's pale face, Voldemort finally removed the curse. Draco remained breathing raggedly on the floor.

"There," Voldemort taunted, nightmare eyes gleaming. "He's perfectly fine."

Narcissa's gaze flickered from Draco's crumpled form to Voldemort's nightmarish face, and then back again.

"Leave him," Voldemort ordered, reading her thoughts. "He can suffer for now, but you, my dear, can make yourself useful and bring me Ginevra. I need to see her."

Anger flashed in the azure of Narcissa's eyes, but her expression remained composed enough. "Very well."

Voldemort watched her leave and then turned to Draco, who had finally managed to drag himself back onto his knees. He looked pitiful. The sight brought a smile to his master's lips.

"Well, Draco, I do hope we have learned our lesson."

"Yes, my lord," Draco gritted out, raising his eyes to meet his master's face.

"Good."

The door opened again not long after, and this time both Ginny and Narcissa entered the room. Ginny was quick to note Draco's humbled position on the ground, and she wondered what had happened. He looked badly shaken.

"Ah, Ginevra," Voldemort greeted, smiling. "So pleased you could join us."

Her eyes flicked towards Draco. He glared at her and stood somewhat shakily to his feet. Apparently, he couldn't stand the thought of being on his knees and looking so obviously weak in front of her.

"Come here, girl," Voldemort ordered, gesturing for her to come towards him with one long finger.

Ginny shifted her gaze reluctantly back to the crimson-eyed man before her and walked somewhat cautiously towards him. He reached out and grasped her chin with his long fingers, tilting her face up towards his so that he could inspect her more easily. She barely repressed a shudder at his touch, but she did not try to pull herself away. Even she was not stupid enough to do that, no matter how unnerving it was being scrutinised by those red eyes.

"Excellent," he murmured, tilting her face this way and that. "I see that you have been taking good care of her, Draco. Perhaps I shall have to reward you after all."

Draco said nothing. He just stared at the two of them with an unreadable expression on his face.

Ginny was rather struck by the irony of it all, knowing that Draco hadn't treated her that well at all, but then she did know that it could have been worse. He was ruthless, but he was not deliberately cruel to her unless she provoked him. It was something she had come to realise about him.

"You'd best stay healthy, my dear," Voldemort said, releasing her face. "We need you to be in good condition for the duration of the pregnancy." His eyes flicked to Narcissa and Draco. "That goes for the both of you. I have entrusted you with taking care of her, but if anything goes wrong, it will be with your lives that I will take my retribution."

Neither Draco nor Narcissa said anything to this pronouncement. Voldemort seemed to expect no less from the stony-faced Malfoys and turned his attention back to Ginny.

"Until next time, my dear," he said in a disturbingly loving voice.

He was gone on the words.


	6. Disturbance

**This chapter may not feel as 'dark' as the others, but I do have my reasons for that. Just putting that out there before you all start screaming at me and wondering what the heck I'm doing. *laughs***

**Disturbance**

For a moment no one moved, their eyes still transfixed on the spot where Voldemort had stood only seconds ago. It was Narcissa who came to herself first. She turned to face Draco, hesitating in her need to embrace him, and so contented herself by laying a hand on his arm.

"Are you alright?" she asked, fixing concerned eyes on his face.

"I'm fine," Draco snarled, shaking her hand off.

Narcissa seemed hurt but not surprised by this treatment. The mask of marble crept back onto her face, and any trace of soft emotion soon vanished. "I see," was all she replied, hand dropping back to her side.

Draco averted his eyes from his mother's face and found himself confronted with Ginny's questioning gaze. "What are you looking at?" he demanded, shooting her a glare.

Ginny opened her mouth wordlessly and then quickly lowered her eyes, a dull flush spreading across her cheeks. It was the first time she had not jumped at the chance to give a retort; Draco felt his hackles rise in defence. He knew exactly what she was thinking. It was written across the pink staining her cheeks. She pitied him, or at least she felt that he deserved some sympathy for being punished.

He could have laughed at the thought. She had no idea. The stupid girl was probably endowing him with some brave heroism for defying his master and earning punishment. She didn't understand that the only reason he had been punished was because he had gone off to slaughter innocent people instead of following his orders by staying to look after her. It didn't matter that he had only done it to drown his own fears and doubts; it didn't even matter that he still felt sick at the thought of all the deaths he had caused. What mattered was that he had killed them. He had killed them all, and though it sickened him, he knew that he would do it again if it meant keeping the power he had been given, if only to smother the weakness twisting inside him.

Her pity was wasted on him. No matter how confused he felt right now, it could not change who he was. Nothing could change that.

"What are you going to do now, Draco?" Narcissa asked, shaking him from his bitter thoughts.

"Exactly what I was ordered to do," he responded, focussing his attention back on the downcast redhead. "I'm going to make sure Ginevra is kept safe and sound for the Dark Lord."

Ginny's eyes darted back up to his.

"You'd better cooperate," he threatened, grey eyes piercing into her brown. "I don't plan on dying any time soon."

"That makes two of us," Ginny replied, returning his gaze with unruffled calm.

He gave a low laugh and then turned back to his mother. "I'm leaving you to take care of her personal needs. You heard the Dark Lord; if she gets sick, it'll be on both our heads."

"I understand," Narcissa said, expression impassive.

"Good, then it's settled." Draco's eyes flicked back to Ginny. An inscrutable expression crept into the grey irises, but he said no more and simply stalked out of the room.

Narcissa sighed and turned to Ginny. "Come. I'll take you back to your room."

Ginny nodded and followed the graceful blonde. They walked in silence down the hallway, Ginny's eyes occasionally glancing up at the perfectly composed woman. She realised she felt uncomfortable around the older woman.

Narcissa had been agitated when she had first collected Ginny, clearly worried about her son, but now the blonde was as cold as the walls surrounding her. It was unnatural. No one should be allowed to shut one's emotions off like that, but then Ginny realised that she should have been used to it by now. Draco often did the same.

Still, Narcissa was a difficult woman to define. As a mother it was clear that she loved her son, but it was also obvious that their relationship was strained at best. Draco showed no respect to his mother, and Ginny was not blind to the bruises blossoming on that porcelain neck.

It seemed that she was not the only one who had suffered from the temper of Draco Malfoy.

"There," Narcissa said, stopping outside Ginny's bedroom door. "If you need anything, you need only call for Tinky."

"Okay."

Narcissa nodded and made to leave, but then she paused. She turned her face slightly, capturing Ginny's gaze with azure eyes that were no less piercing than her son's.

"I know I need not remind you," Narcissa said coolly, "but I hope you understand that while I wish you no harm, I cannot help you if you put our lives in danger by being stubborn. You are not the only prisoner here, Ginevra. I would be grateful if you did not make life any more unpleasant for us than what it needs to be."

"I understand."

"I hope you do. Fighting against your captive state may make you feel like you're not giving up, but it will get you nowhere in the end. Sometimes it is better to be patient and appease those who would hold you down."

Ginny glanced up at the older woman in surprise, but Narcissa was already walking away and did not look back. The redhead let out a small sigh and entered her room, lighting the branch of candles by her bed to give some light. Her brain was buzzing with everything that had happened, but she found that she had little desire to dwell on it. Everything was so confusing now. It was beginning to give her a headache.

Sighing again, she got undressed into one of the nightdresses Narcissa had provided for her and then did the usual routine of washing her face and brushing her teeth before clambering into the bed. For a moment she just lay there staring up at the darkened roof. Her mind idly strayed back to the parting words Narcissa had given her, for her brain had relaxed enough now to take in what was actually being said.

The message was simple: don't waste energy on a losing battle.

Ginny had already gathered that Narcissa was a prisoner in her own home, judging by the way both Voldemort and Draco had treated the older woman. Perhaps it was that which made her seriously consider the blonde's advice. She knew that Draco would not hurt her if she stopped provoking him. It was one of the few saving graces that she had discovered about him. He was ruthless, but he was not mindlessly cruel like some of the other Death Eaters she had faced, no matter how much he might wish her to think so.

A wry smile twisted her lips. "A gentlemanly Death Eater," she mused aloud. "Who would have thought?"

It was an amusing picture, but an accurate one nonetheless. The more she found herself in his presence, the more she realised that Draco Malfoy was indeed not as black as she had painted him. There was no escaping the fact that he was a horrible person, but she also knew that he was not completely evil. He was, as Lara had hinted, simply one of the many shades of grey that made up the world.

She just had to wonder how dark that shade of grey actually was.

**OOOO**

The next day went much more smoothly than Ginny had expected it to go. She had breakfast with Narcissa – Draco having eaten earlier that morning. After that, she began exploring the manor to get a feel for her new prison. She did get lost a few times, much to her chagrin, and it was during a particularly frustrating mission of trying to find her way back to the grand staircase that she stumbled across the library. Row upon row of books reaching right up to the ceiling greeted her awe-struck eyes. She was sure Hermione would have had a field day had she ever been allowed into the well-stocked room. It seemed to hold a little bit of everything, but it was the shelf of romance novels that really delighted Ginny. One of the female Malfoys had obviously been a romantic.

Discovering a very comfortable armchair seated by one of the windows, Ginny picked out one of the dusty novels from the shelf and settled herself down on the chair, all ready to pass the morning away with her book. No one bothered to disturb her during her fictional adventure. Narcissa was a naturally reserved person and seemed to prefer her own company to Ginny's –something Ginny could not complain about – and Draco had never been one to inflict his presence on her unless he particularly needed her for something. As such, Ginny was left to amuse herself for the day, perfectly comfortable, and free from any annoying interruptions or demands.

If this was what her time with the Malfoys was always going to be like, she almost felt like she could handle being held prisoner here. It certainly made a nice change from the disgusting room she had been kept in back at the Death Eater's headquarters, where she had nothing to entertain herself with but her own bitter thoughts.

Her stomach began to grumble, but Ginny was so absorbed in her book that she ignored the demands. The novel she had picked out, written by who she assumed must be a Muggle author (the irony brought a smile to her face), was very addictive, and also happened to be about a girl who had been kidnapped against her will. Ginny was particularly struck by the similarities between the dashing Marquis of Vidal, who featured as the hero and villain of the novel, and her own handsome captor. Both were rude, controlling and had dangerous tempers. However, unlike the Marquis, Draco had not kidnapped her out of a fit of pique, and the very thought of him demanding she become his wife was laughable.

Handsome kidnapers may be all very romantic and exciting in fictional novels, but in reality they were far less appealing. It was true that Ginny knew she was attracted to Draco, but she was not delusional. There was no chance of her falling in love with _her_ captor. He was far too horrible to allow that to happen.

Her stomach became more vocal with its grumbles. Ginny sighed and placed the book down on the chair. She would have to finish it later.

Venturing once again into the maze that was the manor, she headed down the long corridors in search of the kitchen. It was nearly half an hour later when she finally found it. To her annoyance, Draco was already in there, drink in hand, and showed no signs of leaving anytime soon. Ginny could have screamed in exasperation, but she had come this far now and so decided to just suck up her courage and face the confrontation. What was the most he could do, after all?

She wisely ignored the answers that came to her head.

Draco glanced up at the sound of her footsteps, grey eyes widening with mild surprise. It was obvious that he had not been expecting to be interrupted, let alone by her.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, his expression closing off to become just as cold and aloof as it always was.

She would have thought it was obvious, but since he was playing dense today, she decided to enlighten him.

"I was hungry."

"You could have just asked Tinky to bring you some food."

"I didn't think of that," Ginny sighed, a bit annoyed at herself for not having realised this fact sooner. It would have saved her a lot of trouble, not to mention an unwelcome conversation with her captor.

"I suggest you do that next time instead of coming down here," he continued coolly. "You shouldn't be in these parts of the manor."

"Why not?"

His eyebrow rose slightly at her daring to ask a question. "That's none of your business."

Ginny had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes – it wasn't like she hadn't seen that answer coming – and decided to just ignore him and get the food that she had come down here for. If he wasn't going to kick her out, then she wasn't going to waste the opportunity to satisfy her hunger pangs.

She could feel his eyes following her every move, but she stood strong in her resolve to ignore him and continued to make her sandwich. Draco was not one to be ignored, however, and stood up from his chair to make his languid way towards her. Ginny tensed when she felt him stop behind her, her heart speeding up as it always did when he came in close proximity.

"Look at me."

There was no point in disobeying him. She slowly turned to face him, her eyes rising helplessly to his. He leaned forward against the bench, trapping her within his arms, his face now hovering inches from her own. Ginny couldn't help but suck in a breath. Her heart was beating so hard that her very body seemed to be throbbing with the erratic pulsing of her blood.

He was so close. Too close.

"Let's get one thing straight, Ginevra."

His voice was gentle, almost like a caress, and yet she felt the danger lurking within the velvet shiver up her spine.

"You may have more freedom here than what you did at headquarters, but I am not going to tolerate your impertinence."

"I wasn't trying to disrespect you," Ginny defended.

Honestly, what was his problem? She was only trying to make a sandwich.

"Really?" Draco replied, sceptical.

Her chin lifted. "I think you're just annoyed because I wasn't paying any attention to you."

Now that _was_ impertinent.

Draco stared at her for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. She tensed, her body anticipating the pain that would surely come, but instead of lashing out at her like he usually did, he simply stepped away from her.

"Eat your food," he said shortly, "but I don't want to see you down here again."

Ginny watched as he stalked out of the room without another glance her way. She let out a breath of relief, not quite daring to believe her luck. He was obviously in a more lenient mood today, though she did have to wonder what that had been all about. She really hadn't been trying to offend him. In fact, she had been on her best behaviour, but trying to placate him was like walking on eggshells. No matter what she did, he always cracked.

"Stupid temperamental Death Eaters," she grumbled under her breath.

It was all very well for Narcissa to say that she should stop wasting her energy on a losing battle, but Draco was impossible. He couldn't even let her make a sandwich without getting upset and going on a power trip.

Her stomach gave another growl.

Speaking of sandwiches, Ginny picked up said sandwich and took a hearty bite. That was one good thing about their little tiff, she supposed. She now got to eat in peace. It was a small sort of victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Now if only she could remember how to get back to the library so she could finish her book . . .

**OOOO **

Draco stormed into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him with such force that the doorframe rattled. He was furious. Furious and confused all in one.

He didn't know what had come over him in the kitchen just then, but he did know that Ginny had been more right with her assumption than she had probably realised. There had been no real rationale to his actions. He had simply been piqued that she was ignoring him and so had forced her to take notice of him in the only way he knew how: by invading her space and using threats to make sure that she continued to fear him. It hadn't worked. In fact, his master plan had backfired on him so that he was the one left feeling unsettled.

Draco could think of plenty of perfectly rational reasons as to why he had been so bothered by her indifference, but he was not stupid, and he knew that none of them were the real reason. The truth was that he had done it because he _wanted_ her to look at him; because he _wanted_ to see the small spark of exhilaration and fear that always came into her eyes when he moved too close to her; because, for all his own indifference, he could not bear the thought that she could dismiss _him_ so easily.

Perhaps it was vanity, perhaps it was something else. Draco didn't know, nor did he want to.

This was getting dangerous. He couldn't afford to slip up now, no matter how confused and frustrated she made him feel. He needed to get a grip. He needed to stop dwelling on these insignificant matters and focus on the task at hand. All he needed to do was ensure her health and safety for nine months, and then she would be gone. Dead.

The thought almost made him sigh in relief. He did not appreciate the way she was turning his world upside down with her questioning eyes and impertinent ways. Her very presence seemed to make his foundations tremble, but he refused to let her or anyone else ruin what he was trying to achieve. He had come so far. He couldn't lose it now. He couldn't go back to being that pathetic boy: helpless, scared, and crumbling under the pressure of the demands placed on him.

Nobody had feared him then, nobody had listened to him. They'd laughed at him, mocked him – called him a coward. But no one laughed at him now. Everyone feared him. Even the Dark Lord felt threatened by his power.

_And what was the price you paid for that respect?_ a nagging voice whispered in his mind.

Draco closed his eyes, banging his head back against the wall.

So what if he was a killer? So what if he was every bit the monster his mother called him? This was his life now. This was who he was. Even if he did leave the Death Eaters and gave up on all his hopes for power, it would never change what he had done. He would never be able to remove the blood that constantly stained his hands.

"The Dark Lord would just kill me, anyway," he muttered to himself.

The first sign of rebellion he showed would see his death. He was now just as trapped and pressured as he had been when he was first forced by his master to kill.

A twisted smile came to Draco's lips. He certainly wouldn't forget that day.

_Draco breathed deeply, still staring at the marble floor from his kneeling position. His body was trembling, and though he desperately tried to contain himself – if only to stop his aunt's mocking laughter – he found he could not stop the shivers that racked his body._

"_Look at me, Draco," the Dark Lord commanded in a smooth, caressing voice._

_Draco shivered at the sound of that sickeningly loving voice. The unnatural tenderness made his skin crawl with disgust. He knew the Dark Lord used it on purpose to lull his Death Eaters into a false sense of security, but Draco was not fooled. He knew he was going to be punished. _

_His breath started coming in short, frightened gasps, but he lifted his eyes in obedience and met the amused crimson staring back at him. _

"_M-my Lord."_

_Draco winced at the stutter. He had tried to act tough, flaunting the fact to his classmates that he had become a Death Eater, but underneath the bravado he was terrified, and he always had been terrified. Right now, he couldn't even maintain the appearance of composure. _

_He had failed his master. He had failed to kill _again_, and this time there was no Severus or Harry Potter to save him. _

_A smile curled those unnaturally thin lips. "You know why you're here, don't you?"_

_Draco closed his eyes. The burning sensation had started, but he refused to cry in front of the Dark Lord. He had enough pride for that. _

"_Yes, my Lord," Draco said, still trying to keep himself together._

"_And you know that you deserve what I am about to do to you, don't you, my child?"_

"_Yes, my Lord." _

_The words came out in the barest whisper._

_Voldemort smiled, aiming his wand at the young boy's face. "Crucio."_

_Pain. There was so much pain. It was beyond anything Draco had ever experienced in his life, like burning needles piercing into every inch of his skin. He screamed and screamed until he thought his voice would go hoarse, and just when he felt like he was going to pass out from the agony, it suddenly stopped. _

_The curse had been removed. _

_Draco slumped into a trembling heap on the ground. Something soft brushed against his cheek. Robes. A hand took his chin and forced his face upwards. Once again, Draco found himself meeting those nightmarish, crimson eyes._

"_Do not fail me again, Draco." Voldemort released him and straightened to his full height. "Stand up."_

_Draco pushed his trembling body into a sitting position and then hauled himself shakily back to his feet, wiping the tears from his face. He felt oddly twitchy after suffering from the curse, and he could still feel the burning pain travelling through his limbs. _

"_Take your wand," Voldemort commanded._

_Draco obediently took the wand from his master's hand._

_Another chilling smile, and then Voldemort turned to Bellatrix. "Bring him in."_

_Bellatrix's eyes lit up with mad glee. She left the room and returned a few minutes later with a very frightened Neville Longbottom in tow. Draco's stomach plummeted sickeningly. This was the boy he had failed to kill._

_The fear in that round, absurdly childish face was pitiful, but Draco was also terrified. Their eyes met, and the sickening feeling inside him grew all the more intense. Somehow, Draco just knew what was going to happen next._

"_Now, Draco," Voldemort said, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. "I want you to kill this boy as I ordered."_

_Draco swallowed. His wand hand trembled like a frail leaf in the wind. He couldn't disobey his master again. He would be punished, maybe even killed, but he didn't want to kill. He couldn't kill. It sickened him. Frightened him._

_It was all too much. _

_Neville stared at him with wide eyes: eyes that pleaded for mercy, pleaded for Draco to spare him._

"_Kill him," Voldemort commanded, placing more pressure on Draco's shoulder. _

_The weight was unbearable._

_Draco's heart pounded faster. _

_**Thump, Thump. **_

_It was all he could think. All he could feel. _

_**Thump, Thump. **_

_Two words. That was all it took. Just two words._

_**Thump, Thump.**_

"_Do you dare to defy me again?" Voldemort hissed._

_Draco stared into the round face of his old classmate. An eerie silence seemed to fall over the room. Even the painful beatings of his heart had stopped. _

_He held his wand more firmly._

_There was a whisper, a flash of green, and then it was over._

_Draco stood transfixed, his eyes locked on the glassy face of the boy he had often teased during school lying motionless on the ground. Neville Longbottom was dead. He was dead._

"_Well done," Voldemort praised, finally removing the weight off Draco's shoulder. "You have killed your first blood-traitor." His voice softened. "Next time it won't be so hard."_

_Draco stared up at his master in horror. The man was actually trying to comfort him, telling him that next time – Salazar forbid there should ever be a next time – it would be easier, as if it could ever be easy to kill his classmates, to kill anyone!_

"Well, there certainly was a next time," Draco mumbled to himself, stepping away from the wall. "And it did get easier."

Yet he seemed to have lost that immunity. Even now when he looked at his pale hands, he could almost see the crimson staining his palms of all the lives he had taken. It had been so easy to be ruthless when he was numb, when he was dead to all feeling of remorse. He had felt nothing then. It was as if he had shut off every emotion inside him. Now, however, those emotions had been unleashed again, and a new form of hollowness had taken over him.

The price, it seemed, had been too much. He had gained power, gained all the respect that he had ever wanted, but to achieve this he had also had to give up his innocence, his integrity, as well as the other half of respect that he had once held; the kind that cannot be inspired by fear, but rather through love and goodness.

Draco didn't know if there was any love left in him now. If it still existed, it was probably bitter and twisted, only able to take the form of violent and threatening outbursts. But he accepted this. He had no choice but to. It was the only way to stop from going insane. He just couldn't let go of that anxiety of becoming weak, and the more he felt tempted by the thoughts of betraying his master, the more afraid and unsettled he became.

He was losing his mind. He could feel it. This – everything – it was driving him insane. It frightened him, and in that he knew he had to drown the doubt. He had to smother the feelings of guilt once more, even if it destroyed what little goodness was still left in him.

No matter what the cost, he could not be weak.

It had just never been so hard before. Especially since _she_ had come into his life.

**OOOO**

The days slipped by with no further disturbances until a week had passed since Ginny had first come to the manor. She barely saw Draco now. He never ate with them, and as she had taken to shutting herself up in the library all day with romance novels, the chances of their paths crossing had become very slim indeed.

Ginny couldn't really complain. She was plagued enough with thoughts of him without having to see him in person as well. The few times they had collided in the hallways, she had been unsettled by the tension that had seemed to smother him; a feeling that was only heightened by his silence, for he didn't speak during these encounters – though, once, he did tell her rather curtly to get out of his way.

The blond was such a mystery to her, such a source of frustration. She wanted to make sense of him, she wanted to understand his motives, but he was like an impenetrable wall. There was just no getting in. No doubt, he would call her a fool for even trying. She almost smiled at that thought. Yes, he probably would call her a fool, but she was his prisoner, and, unfortunately for her, both the attraction and hate she felt for him only served to increase her fascination. She couldn't help but think about him, and thinking about him led to a desire to understand him, if only to make sense of the contradictions he seemed to encompass.

Ginny sighed. She really needed to get a life.

Placing down yet another romance book, she stood up from her bed and made her way to the bathroom. She turned on the hot tap and started undressing, humming tunelessly as she did so. Once the bath was full, she slipped into the water and closed her eyes as she leant back against the bathtub.

Ginny tried rather fruitlessly to direct her mind to something other than her captor – Merlin knew there were plenty of other things she could think about: her health, for one thing, which had become strangely erratic as of late. She kept feeling nauseous at odd times in the day, and then there were the strange hot flushes. The thing that bothered her was that she actually wasn't sick – a fact she registered even when she was vomiting up her breakfast in the toilet. She wasn't sick, yet she was sick. It was an unnerving paradox.

Still, despite her worrying state of health, her mind refused to be sidetracked and continued to stubbornly dwell on the handsome man with the piercing grey eyes. As she lay there, relaxing in the bath and trying _not_ to think of Draco Malfoy, a passive languor came over her body. Her thoughts were becoming jumbled, as if all the strings had tangled themselves in her mind to the point where she couldn't have separated them had she wanted to.

Then the door opened.

Ginny sat up in fright. There, standing before her with his hand still resting on the door, was the same grey-eyed man that had been plaguing her thoughts only moments ago. A jolt shot through her stomach when she saw the expression on his face. She had seen it only once before, and at the time he had not been wearing any clothes.

A delicious warmth filled her body, spreading right up to her face to cause an immoderate flush to come to her cheeks.

"W-what are you doing here?"

Draco said nothing. He just walked towards her and hauled her up to a standing position, pulling her close to his body. Her heart gave a frantic stutter in her chest, and, before she could react, he was crushing his lips on hers. Ginny gave a half-hearted struggle, but was easily pacified as the old longings surfaced inside her once more.

A small moan broke from her lips as he deepened the kiss. She wrapped her arms around him and then she was kissing him with everything she had. They stumbled backwards into the wall, his clothes quickly becoming drenched from her dripping wet body, but neither of them seemed to care. In fact, to Ginny, this seemed a good excuse to take his clothes off.

His shirt was removed, the skin-to-skin contact sending shockwaves through her blood. She indulged in the feel of his chest, lips still locked with his own, but then he growled low in his throat and pressed her hard up against the wall. She winced slightly from the pain, but was too dizzy with pleasure to care, and merely wrapped her legs around his waist to get into a better position.

Draco pulled back from her lips, trailing kisses down her jaw, where he proceeded to assail every inch of her neck with his mouth. Ginny leaned her head back against the wall, her eyes closing with the sensations he was creating on the hypersensitive skin.

The pants would have to come off later. She was too distracted right now.

"Ginevra."

"Mm," she breathed out in a moan.

"Why are you lying naked on the floor?"

Ginny blinked.

About three things were suddenly made clear to her. Draco was not in the bathroom, her body was in a lot of pain from where she had somehow fallen out of the bath, and Narcissa Malfoy was staring at her like she had just grown an extra head.

Two pink spots of embarrassment came to Ginny's cheeks. "I, uh . . . I think I fell asleep."

"I see," was all Narcissa replied, still watching her in that disquietingly way.

Ginny really hoped she hadn't been moaning out loud. That would just be embarrassing, and the dream – pleasant as it had felt – was disturbing enough without having Narcissa find out about it.

Sitting up gingerly from the ground, Ginny took the towel the blonde was offering to her and wrapped it securely around her body. "Did you want me for something?"

"Not particularly," Narcissa replied. "I was just worried when you didn't come down to breakfast. I wanted to make sure everything was alright."

Ginny felt oddly touched by that.

"Your health is of great importance to Draco and I."

Scratch that. It seemed both Malfoys had a selfish streak.

"Sorry. It won't happen again," Ginny apologised.

"You'd best make sure it doesn't. You don't want to put the child's life at risk."

"Right."

Ginny watched Narcissa leave the room, a scowl coming to her face once the door had closed behind the regal blonde. The woman was treating her like she was made of glass. It had only been a week. Ginny doubted the baby could be harmed by a little fall like that.

Grumbling to herself, Ginny made her way back to the main part of the bedroom and began rummaging through the wardrobe for a dress to wear. She picked out a blue one and tossed it on the bed, letting the towel drop to the floor as she moved towards the drawers and got changed into some fresh undergarments.

Ginny suddenly froze. She turned back towards the mirror opposite the wardrobe, her eyes widening as she stared at her stomach. It was – there was no other word for it – bulging.

"Merlin," she breathed, letting her hands feel the small bump.

It would not have been recognisable on a normal person, but Ginny's body had become unhealthily thin of late. There was no rational reason why she would have excess fat around her stomach. It could only mean one thing.

"But it's only been a week!"

She may have never been pregnant in her life, but she was not so clueless that she didn't know it was at least a month later that one started to show even the smallest signs of pregnancy, and even then it was hard to tell. There was only one conclusion to this strange situation: she really was breeding a monster.

Ginny then did something very unexpected for a girl of her calibre. She fainted.

**OOOO**

The room was silent except for the steady breathing coming from the young man lying in the bed. He did not move when the door opened and a man with crimson eyes glided in, nor did he make any protest when the long fingers of his intruder caressed his face, tracing the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. He had might as well have been dead for all the movement he made, a fact that seemed to amuse his unwelcome visitor to no end.

"To think I was ever scared of a boy like you," Voldemort murmured, a half-smile curling his thin lips. "You see how the tables are turned, Potter? Now it is you who clings to life, and I who am protected."

The candles flickered, the door opening and shutting with a soft click.

"What is it, Lara?" Voldemort asked smoothly, still staring down into the emaciated face of his old rival. "You know I don't like to be disturbed."

Lara tossed her brown hair uneasily over her shoulder, her restless eyes flickering from the snake-like face before her to the boy lying on the bed. "Something is not right."

Voldemort looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing into a frown. "What are you talking about?"

"The child. Something is not right with the child."

"What do you mean?" he almost growled.

Lara shook her head. "I don't know. I would have to see Ginevra to find out what is wrong. I just sense a disturbance. It's giving me a headache," she grumbled, rubbing her temples.

"Very well. We shall both go to the manor and you can find out what this 'disturbance' is. I don't care what you have to do to make it right; I need that child. No cost is too small."

"I understand."

"Good," Voldemort said. "Oh, and Lara?"

"Yes?"

"Stop trying to help that worthless brat."

Lara's fine eyebrows drew into a frown. "My lord?"

"There's only one Death Eater you would go out of your way to help, and you have been leaving without explanation more frequently lately. Don't think I haven't noticed."

"I thought you would be pleased," Lara said cautiously. "I'm only ensuring the continuation of Salazar's curse."

"The curse has served its purpose. I have no further use for Draco, though I don't deny he is a great asset to our ranks. But he is getting too dangerous to keep alive. He can take care of Ginevra for now, but after that I shall have him removed."

"Then you _are_ going to kill him?"

He laughed. "Why, Lara, you seem almost upset. Don't tell me you actually have feelings for the boy?"

Lara tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Don't be ridiculous."

Voldemort gave a dangerously charming smile. "Good, because if you even think to use your powers against me to protect him, I will not hesitate to dispose of you as well."

"Of course, Master," Lara said, bowing in an ironic display of respect. "I would not dream of going against you."

Voldemort did not believe her; however, unlike Draco, whose thoughts he could still vaguely sense, Lara's mind was impenetrable. She was too useful to kill on a whim of paranoia, but he knew that he would have to watch her carefully from now on.

It seemed his most powerful servants were getting restless. He could not have that happen just yet.

_I need that child,_ he thought angrily to himself.

Once he had the child, he would no longer have need for rebellious servants. He would be invincible. For now, however – and his eyes flicked back to the boy with the lightning scar – he would just have to rely on other means until the child was ready for the sacrifice.

But first he needed to ensure all was going smoothly. This _disturbance_ could not have happened at a worse time.

"Let's go," Voldemort said shortly.

Disapparating with a loud crack – Lara following in tow – they reappeared in the middle of the morning room at Malfoy manor.

Narcissa stood up in surprise, a questioning frown in her eyes. "What is going on?"

Voldemort's red eyes swept over the room and then rested on her face. "Where's Ginevra?"

**A/N: Don't you just love me right now? :P**

**There's lots going on in this chapter, which may make it feel a bit jumbled, and I do apologise for that. I tried to get it as smooth as I could, but I do realise the transitions aren't the greatest. **

**Oh, and the novel with the "dashing Marquis of Vidal" is actually a real novel written by Georgette Heyer, called **_**Devil's Cub**_**. I highly recommend it to anyone who loves a good, light-hearted and witty romance.**

**In any case, your thoughts on this chapter are always welcome in the forms of reviews (hint, hint) and hopefully it won't be too long before you see the next update. I'm busy with exam preparations, so it probably will be a bit longer.**


	7. To Feel

**To Feel**

"_Where's Ginevra?"_

The question remained unanswered. Just in that moment, the door opened and Draco Malfoy strode into the room. He checked on the threshold, grey eyes widening in faint surprise when he saw both Lara and Voldemort standing in the middle of the room.

"What's going on?" he demanded, echoing his mother's question.

It was Lara who replied.

"I need to see Ginevra. Something is wrong with the child."

Narcissa paled and instinctively gripped her son's arm. "Draco, go bring Ginevra here. She should still be in her room."

He nodded, the slight tightening of his jaw being the only sign that he was disturbed by this news. Without a further word, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, his mind buzzing with what he had just learnt. There was something wrong with the child – something no one had expected, judging by the worried gleam he had caught in Lara's eyes. He knew his life was now hanging by the barest thread. His survival, not to mention his mother's, was linked to the welfare of that child. If it died, so did he. Voldemort would make sure of that.

Draco clenched his hands into fists. How could this have happened? Hadn't his mother taken perfect care of Ginny? Hadn't he restrained himself from hurting her even when the stubborn redhead had pushed her boundaries?

His eyes narrowed. If she had done something to cause this problem, he would not show her mercy. He didn't care what confusing feelings she made him feel; he knew what he wanted and he would not have her or her stupid fits of rebellion ruining that by putting his life in danger.

Draco stopped outside Ginny's bedroom and opened the door without knocking. This time, however, there was no biting remark to greet him from the impertinent prisoner. He frowned, pausing as he took in the seemingly empty room and the discarded dress set out on the bed. That was when his eyes fell on the pale form lying by the foot of the mirror.

His breath caught. Not even stopping to contemplate what he was doing, Draco swiftly moved towards the unconscious girl and knelt down beside her body, looping an arm underneath her as he lifted her into a sitting position.

"Ginevra," he murmured, giving her a gentle shake. "Ginevra, wake up."

The girl remained silent, her head lolling to the side from the movement.

Draco could feel the panic rising inside him. This was not good. He reached into his robe to grab his wand, intending to cast the _Enervate_ spell to awaken her, when fingers suddenly tightened around his wrist. His gaze darted down to the girl in his arms, just catching the flutter of her lashes as the deep brown of her eyes were revealed.

She stared up at him, awareness dawning on her face, and then a faint tinge of pink stole to her cheeks.

"Malfoy? What—"

"What happened?" Draco cut in ruthlessly, ignoring her blush and stammering.

"I—" She held a hand to her swimming head. "I think I fainted."

"You're not hurt?"

A slight frown creased her brow. "No," she said slowly. "No, I'm fine, but—" she stared down at her stomach, words trailing off.

Draco followed her gaze, his eyes widening as he took in the small bump. It was bare for him to see, as Ginny was still only wearing her undergarments, and looked disturbingly unnatural against her thin frame.

"Sweet Salazar," he breathed, forgetting himself for a moment as he brushed his fingers against the stretched skin.

"What do you think it means?" Ginny asked, trying and failing to appear as if she was not affected by his gentle caress.

Draco's eyes caught hers, his hand rising and falling with her erratic breathing, though he seemed to pay no mind to this. "I don't know," he replied truthfully, "but it seems Lara was right."

"Lara?"

"She's in the morning room with the Dark Lord. She believes that something may be wrong with the child. They want to see you," he added, staring at her with sudden suspicion.

Ginny's eyes blazed. "If you think that _I _did something to make this happen, you're wrong. I told you that I don't want to die any more than you do. Do you honestly think that I would jeopardise my life by damaging the child now after already putting up with having sex with you?"

"Having regrets, Weasley?"

"You know I regret it," she gritted out bitterly.

"Funny. You didn't seem to find it so terrible before."

Pink spread across her cheeks. "You don't need to tell me how much of a whore I am for having enjoyed being with you. I already know what you think of me."

Draco wasn't sure why the waspishness of her tone bothered him, only that it did. He _was_ the one who had called her a whore – and had taken malicious satisfaction in doing so – but hearing her so honestly admit that she had enjoyed being with him made quite a different emotion stir inside him. After all, hadn't he enjoyed being with her too?

Shaking away such dangerous thoughts, he put his mind back to the matter at hand. This was not the time for discussing their twisted relationship – if relationship was what one could call it. The Dark Lord did not like to be kept waiting, and Draco knew all too well how impatient Lara could be.

"Can you stand?" he asked, changing the subject.

Ginny glared owlishly at him. "Well, I can't if you keep holding me like this."

And it was true. He still had his arm looped around her while his free hand was resting on her bare stomach.

Making a show of raising his eyebrow at her, as if to remind her that he was still the one in charge, he pulled his arms away from her and allowed her to move away from him. Ginny stood up, Draco following in tow, but she swayed as soon as she made to take a step. Immediately he was there, grasping her by the waist to steady her with his capable hands.

Silver collided with deep brown.

His heart gave a jolt, unsettled by the inexplicable power that always seemed to radiate between them whenever their gazes met. It was as if his blood, quickened by the rush of finding their bodies closer than expected, had somehow become magnetised to hers, drawing the two of them closer with an invisible force.

Draco couldn't understand it. He hated her – he knew that just as well as he knew his own name – but being close to her like this always seemed to trigger something inside him. It was so indefinable, so unnerving, but it was there all the same.

Why did she have this effect over him? What did he even _want_ from her? She was just a girl. Just a stupid girl. There was no sane reason for why he should feel this way, yet he knew there was something there.

Something that he wanted.

Ginny stared up at him through those bewitching brown eyes, her lips parting slightly as she sucked in a small breath. He found himself transfixed by the simple action, his gaze lowering to that tauntingly soft mouth. It would be so easy to close the distance between them, so easy to get a taste of the sweetness he knew that her lips could give . . .

Panicking at the sudden direction of his thoughts, Draco abruptly tore his hands away from her waist and turned from her.

"Can you walk or not?" he asked roughly. "Or do I have to carry you now?"

Ginny's cheeks once again blossomed with her ever-ready blush. "I'm fine," she snapped, looking half-confused, half-aggravated by his sudden show of temper. She stalked past him and grabbed the silk dressing gown hanging on the door, slipping it on to cover her exposed body. "There, I'm ready."

Draco said nothing and continued to say nothing as they walked back towards the morning room. He was still unnerved by the stray thoughts that had infiltrated his mind, and was too busy trying to convince himself that he had not just been indulging in thoughts of kissing the redhead to actually pay attention to her.

"Took you long enough," Lara muttered by way of greeting, scowling as the two made their silent way into the room.

"Go get her yourself then next time," Draco retorted.

"Enough of that," Voldemort said dismissively. He turned to the brunette by his side. "Well, Lara, what do you sense?"

Lara threw a final scowl at Draco and then walked forward to stand in front of Ginny. She let out a deep breath, eyes closing, and then she reached out her hand towards the redhead's stomach, as if searching for some invisible object. Silence filled the room, the only sound being the collective breaths of anticipation coming from its occupants. No one moved. They just waited – waited and watched to see what would happen, though Ginny herself could only stand in frozen fear.

A slight frown twisted Lara's calm expression. Her hand began to tremble and a few beads of sweat could be seen gathering on her brow. Lara took in a sharp breath, the trembling in her hand becoming so violent that her whole arm quivered in protest at the energy she was using. It was disturbing to watch. Ginny could actually see the vibrant woman withering before her eyes – see the strength dying as Lara's expression became more of a grimace, the steady breathing becoming more erratic.

No one dared move. No one dared speak. The silence was suffocating in its intensity, smothering them in a thick veil of nerves. Then Lara let out an agonised gasp and stumbled back, her eyes snapping open to meet Ginny's own horrified gaze. The redhead remained frozen in place, her heart pounding in her chest, just staring into those blue eyes – eyes that right now were mixed with fear, wonder and . . . triumph?

"What happened?" Voldemort demanded, stepping forward in his impatience. "Did you find out what is wrong with the child?"

"The magic is too strong," Lara panted, holding a hand to her now throbbing head. "The child is protected by a barrier that shuts out everything. It's almost as if her womb is using an advanced form of Occlumency against me."

"But did you manage to find out anything?" Voldemort persisted, his tone leaving no doubt that there would be serious consequences if she hadn't.

Lara held her master's gaze briefly and then locked eyes with Ginny. The girl in question swallowed nervously, but Lara only closed the distance between them and – much to the surprise of everyone – wrenched open the silk dressing gown that was covering the girl's body. Ignoring the gasp of protest and shock that escaped the redhead's lips, Lara focused her eyes on the small bump now visible to see.

"I knew it," she whispered, the same mixture of emotions filling the blue of her eyes, though this time the gleam of triumph was impossible to miss.

Ginny could only stare, too frightened to move and too stunned to speak.

Lara turned to face her master. "My lord, the child is in no danger, though I was right in thinking that there is something wrong. If you look closely, you will see that her stomach has already swollen to the size of where it should be in about one or two months."

"I don't understand," Ginny exclaimed, finally finding her voice. "Are you saying this _thing_ inside me has already developed to a two month year old baby in just one week?

"Yes, Ginevra, that is exactly what I'm saying."

"But you say it is in no danger?" Voldemort interposed, watching the brunette with piercing eyes.

"Logically it should be," Lara admitted. "The magic the child holds is too powerful for such an underdeveloped human. There's a reason why most wizards and witches only discover their magic upon coming close to the age of eleven, and even those who show signs of magical ability earlier on in life only manage it in small bursts of uncontrolled magic."

"The mind and the body are too weak to control it," Draco murmured, catching on.

Lara nodded. "Exactly. Magic is supposed to mature with the human body. The nature of your encounter with Ginevra, however, allowed an overwhelming amount of concentrated dark magic to be infused into her womb, only becoming stronger once it fused with the powerful magic she herself would pass onto her seed. No embryo could survive such an onslaught of power; it's just not developed mentally or physically enough to contain such a force."

"Well then why is this monster still growing inside me and at such a rapid pace?" Ginny demanded, becoming just a little hysterical.

"Because the magic has somehow found a way to speed up the process of the embryo's growth in order to compensate for the deficiency," Lara explained. Her eyes shifted to Draco. "It's no different than when your soul accepted the jade stone's magic. You could have easily been killed from the power infused into your body, but your soul embraced it as a part of you, allowing the magic to transform you into something more than just a normal wizard."

Draco paled imperceptibly at this casual reference to the magic placed on him, but his expression remained as impassive as ever. "And so the child is going to keep growing at this pace?" he asked calmly, though there was a faint edge to his voice.

"I'd give you two months at the most before the child will be ready to be born."

"Two months?" Ginny echoed, feeling suddenly ill.

Voldemort's eyes lit up with satisfied glee at this pronouncement. "This is good news, indeed. Two months instead of nine makes a vast difference. You've done well, Lara."

Lara bowed in acknowledgement at this praise. "Thank you, my lord."

Ginny, however, could not contain her panic. Two months instead of nine did indeed make a vast difference, but unlike Voldemort, who looked on the birth as something to anticipate with enthusiasm, she could only feel a nauseating dread at the thought. Once the child was born, she would have no further use to Voldemort. Her child would be taken from her and sacrificed so that he could glut his thirst for power, and she would in all probability be murdered.

She had hoped that an opportunity to escape would present itself over the next nine months, but now she only had two, if even that, to form a plan and make her escape. It wasn't enough, and with this sickening realisation came an even more sickening sensation of dizziness. Black swarmed before her eyes, the muffled roaring in her ears became louder until it dominated all thought, and then she was drifting into nothing, welcomed by a smothering darkness that consumed all.

For the second time that day, Ginny Weasley had fainted.

Draco noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye and, on reflex, caught her before she could hit the ground. He frowned down at the girl in his arms, a strange feeling twisting inside him. She looked so vulnerable in that moment.

"What happened to her?" Voldemort asked.

"Hyperventilating," Narcissa observed, speaking for the first time. She stepped forward to stand beside Draco. "If that is all you need from her, I shall take her back to her room so that she can regain her strength. She is clearly under stress from everything that has happened and needs to rest."

"Very well," Voldemort said, not really caring about anything else now that he knew his plans were in full motion and very close to being achieved. "Make sure that she stays in full health. We can't afford to have any mishaps happen between now and the birth."

Narcissa inclined her head. "Of course."

His red eyes flicked to Lara, who nodded, and then with a swish of his cloak he was gone.

"Watch her close, Draco," Lara advised. "More than your life is depending on her safety now."

Draco barely had time to digest these parting words before the brunette Disapparated with a loud crack. His eyes flicked to his mother, who stared back at him through emotionless eyes.

"Will you carry her for me?" Narcissa asked, gesturing to the unconscious redhead.

He nodded, swallowing back any words he might have said, and slipped an arm under Ginny's legs so that he was holding her bridal-style. Narcissa led the way back to Ginny's room, holding the door open so that Draco could carry the redhead inside without any difficulty. He placed Ginny down on the bed then stood back. His mother came to stand beside him.

"You never told me that the child was yours," Narcissa said quietly, the faint tones of reproach just hinted in her voice.

"There was no need. It's going to be sacrificed as soon as it is born."

Narcissa gave a somewhat bitter laugh. "I see. So this is what my son has become: a tool to breed children for the Dark Lord."

"I didn't rape her on the Dark Lord's orders, if that's what you're thinking," Draco retorted, stung by her words. "It wasn't like that at all . . ."

He stared down at the unconscious girl, the memory of her coming into his room and offering herself to him playing once again before his eyes. She had been like a virgin on the sacrificial altar then, but whatever their strange encounter had started out as it had finished as a mutual yearning to be together.

Even now he could recall very vividly the way her kisses had become more demanding, the way her body had practically begged him to enter to satisfy her growing need, and the soft sound of her voice breathing out his name as they had moved as one. No, that had been no rape, nor had it been a mere game of seduction. She had wanted him, and though he would never admit it, he had wanted her too.

Draco turned to see his mother watching him intently and felt his hackles rise again. He could tell that she was doing some deep thinking. Knowing what his mother thought of him, he knew that it wouldn't be about anything good.

"What?" he snapped. "Are you going to accuse me of something else now? I told you that I didn't rape her, so you can stop looking at me like that."

"I can see that you didn't rape her. I'm just . . . surprised."

Draco blinked, momentarily thrown out of his stride. "I—what?" he stammered, looking suddenly very boyish in his confusion.

"You know that the Dark Lord will kill her once this is over, don't you?"

His brow creased. "Yes."

"And that doesn't bother you at all?"

Draco glared at his mother. "Just what are you implying?"

"I don't know," said that maddeningly calm woman. "You tell me."

Silver flashed with anger. "If you think that I care about her, Mother, you're wrong. I don't give a damn about whether she lives or not. What happened that night between us means nothing to me. _Nothing_."

He suddenly clenched his mouth shut, furious at himself for saying so much.

Narcissa merely raised her eyebrow. Draco let out a growl of frustration and stalked out of the room without a further word, slamming the door shut behind him. A slight smile curled Narcissa's lips as she heard his footsteps stomping off down the hallway.

It seemed her son had learnt to feel.

**OOOO**

Something warm and slightly damp brushed against Ginny's forehead, a few trickles of water escaping to trace her closed eyelids. Her eyelashes fluttered, slowly lifting so she could see the familiar pattern of her ceiling staring back at her.

"Ah, you're awake," a cool but oddly soothing voice murmured from beside her. "Are you feeling better now?"

Ginny blinked and sat up, almost collapsing again at the sudden rush of dizziness that overwhelmed her. Gentle hands quickly came to her rescue.

"Careful now," her companion said as the hands eased her back down on the bed. "Don't push yourself."

There was something about the woman's voice that made a lump come to Ginny's throat. It was so concerned, so genuine. She almost felt like the woman actually cared about her.

"What happened?" Ginny whispered, closing her eyes again.

"You fainted. I thought it would be best to just let you get some rest, so I had Draco bring you up here. Goodness knows you've had more than enough to deal with today."

There was a pause. Ginny heard the sound of something being sloshed in water and then wrung.

"Of course, _they_ would never think of that," the woman muttered more to herself, continuing to bathe the redhead's face.

Ginny felt the lump begin to burn her throat and the tell-tale sign of tears sting her eyes. She knew who was sitting beside her now and felt oddly conflicted by it all. Narcissa had never been outwardly rude to her before, but then the woman had never treated her so affectionately either. It was almost frustrating. There was no reason for the blonde to behave in this way, as if she were a mother simply tending to a sick child. It was too hurtful, too mocking.

Ginny would have given anything to have her own mother bathe her face again like this, but Molly Weasley was dead. None of her family remained now, no one who had loved her and cared for her. She was alone, alone and abandoned, yet here was the mother of her captor treating her with a tender sincerity that was almost overwhelming in its unexpectedness.

She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back the tears that threatened to escape.

Narcissa placed the flannel back in the bowl of water. "Are you alright, Ginevra?"

"No," Ginny choked out, unable to contain it anymore. "I'm not alright. I'm not alright at all."

Everything was just too much. Her family and friends were dead, she was being held captive against her will, forced to sleep with a man she hated and so became pregnant to him, and now, unless a miracle happened, she had barely two months to live because of said child. Add in the confusing mixture of feelings she felt for her captor and it was no wonder that she had reached breaking point.

Her body trembled as the suppressed tears began to force their way out of her tear-ducts, her chest constricting painfully with the sheer force of emotion coursing through her. It had been so long since she had allowed herself to cry like this. She had been forcing everything in, trying to push all her woes to the back of her mind, but Narcissa's concern had unlocked something inside her. She couldn't hold it back any longer.

Ginny curled her body into a ball, shaking and choking on her tears. There was a sigh and then hands calmly pulled her closer. It was then that Ginny realised she was being held in the arms of Narcissa Malfoy.

For a moment, Ginny was too stunned to do anything, but then a pitiful sob broke free from her throat and she buried her face into the older woman's shoulder, her tears now spilling freely as she relaxed into the warm embrace. Narcissa seemed to understand that no words needed to be said and simply held the sobbing girl close, allowing her fingers to glide soothingly through the red tresses cascading down the girl's back. Her own expression was troubled, as if deep in thought, but she said nothing to disturb the girl in her arms.

It was some time later before Ginny finally quietened down. Narcissa gently eased her back against the pillows and then pulled the covers up to keep her warm.

"Thank you," Ginny whispered, grasping the woman's wrist, the earnestness in her brown eyes saying more than what words could have ever expressed.

Narcissa's expression softened slightly. She tenderly smoothed back the hair from Ginny's face and then stood away from the bed. "Get some rest, Ginevra. I'll have Tinky bring you some dinner later."

Ginny nodded and watched the woman leave the room, the crushing weight that had been troubling her heart lifting slightly.

It was strange. Her situation hadn't changed at all, yet the future no longer seemed so bleak to her. Or maybe it was just that the present had become easier to bear? Ginny wasn't sure, but what she did know was that she was no longer in this alone.

**OOOO**

The next morning Ginny made her appearance at the breakfast table and was surprised to see Draco there as well. His eyes briefly flicked to her and then returned to the parchment in his hands. The act could not have been any more dismissive.

Ginny slid into her seat, feeling just a little uncomfortable. It was the first time they had eaten together in the breakfast room and the casualness of the situation was rather unsettling. She wished he could have just stayed in his room like he usually did.

"How was your sleep?" Narcissa asked, her voice just as smooth and indifferent as it had been when the two women had first breakfasted together.

If Ginny was disappointed at this cold reception, she did not show it. In some ways she thought it was to be expected from Narcissa, who very rarely showed her emotions to anyone. The connection from last night was still there, though, and perhaps it was that which made Ginny relax a bit more.

"Fine, thank you," Ginny said.

"I'm glad to hear it."

Ginny took one look at the food laid out on the table and felt a wave of nausea twist inside her. Of course, she had been feeling increasingly ill at the sight of food over the past week, as well as the frequent dizzy spells and vomiting, but now she understood why. The child was growing inside her at a rapid pace, and that meant all the symptoms were being thrown at her before she could even prepare for them.

She picked up a piece of toast and started nibbling, hoping that it wouldn't later end up being regurgitated in the toilet. She could feel Narcissa watching her and managed to force a smile at the older woman. They wouldn't let her get away with not eating this morning, so she would just have to grin and bear it.

Draco sighed and crumpled the parchment in his hands, drawing both women's attention to him. He looked tired, Ginny thought.

"What's wrong?" Narcissa asked.

"The Dissenters are getting more active again. One of our bases was raided last night, but no one was killed. It seems like they're looking for something."

"Do you have any idea what?"

"I have a few," Draco admitted, "and what I can think of is not very comforting." His eyes briefly flicked to Ginny and then back to the crumpled parchment in his hands. "I have to speak with Lara," he muttered, standing up from his chair.

"You know that the Dark Lord doesn't want you to leave the manor," Narcissa reminded him, giving a pointed look in Ginny's direction.

Draco's jaw clenched. "Fine. Then I'll send her an owl."

He left the room on the words.

Ginny frowned to herself, thinking over Draco's words. Who were these _Dissenters_? Was it possible that the Order had discovered that she had been taken and were now looking for her? Or was it someone else? If so, how come she had never heard of them before?

She stared at Narcissa. "Who are the Dissenters?"

"People who have betrayed the Dark Lord," Narcissa explained. "They're either ex-Death Eaters or people who were neutral before the war but still believed in blood purity."

"So they're good?"

Narcissa gave a tinkling laugh. "_Good_? Don't be naïve, Ginevra. Just because people oppose the Dark Lord does not make them good. The Dissenters are brutal – more brutal than the Death Eaters in many ways. These are people who didn't get as much power as they thought they would under the Dark Lord's reign and so decided to take matters into their own hands. You'd just best hope that they never find out about you."

"Why?"

"Because the child inside of you holds the most powerful magic ever to exist on this earth and is pivotal to the Dark Lord's plans. Think about it, Ginevra."

Ginny paled. "Oh."

She was nothing but a pawn in this war, whether it would be to Voldemort or these Dissenters.

Her hands clenched into fists. She was just so sick of being used. Ever since she had been kidnapped she had felt powerless to everything happening around her, but not anymore. She'd show them. There was no way she was going to give up and let them take her child from her for their sick plans, even if she did hate the thing.

Even a pawn could take down the king if the game was played right.


	8. The New Prisoner

**The New Prisoner**

It had been two weeks since Ginny had discovered the truth about the child. Two miserable weeks. She was still no closer to escaping the manor, and the sight of her rapidly growing stomach only reminded her of how little time she had left.

At first, she had considered enlisting Narcissa's help. The woman was still the mistress of the manor, after all, and she _had_ comforted Ginny that night. But just before Ginny had opened her mouth to request the blonde's help, something had whispered that it would be wiser for her to keep quiet about her plans for escape. Narcissa was acting friendlier towards her of late, but that did not mean that the older woman would be willing to jeopardise both her and her son's life just so Ginny could escape from the manor. It was Draco that Narcissa loved, Draco that she would protect in the end.

So Ginny had kept her thoughts quiet and tried her best to come up with a plan. She had discovered, after many walks around the grounds, that the manor was warded in such a way that she could not escape unless she had a wand. Since the only way she could get a wand was if she stole Draco's, Ginny knew that this was going to prove extremely difficult. Not only that, once she had achieved the impossible feat of getting his wand, she then had to determine what wards he had used so that she could break them. Ginny may be a powerful witch, but she was no genius. It could take weeks to figure out what wards the Malfoys were using to keep her a prisoner. Weeks that she did not have.

Then, still, she had to consider what she would do after she had broken the wards. She was not a fool. She knew that every Death Eater in England would be hunting for her once she escaped. She would need to get somewhere safe very fast, but after spending so long as a prisoner, she had no idea where the Order would now be stationed or even if anyone was still alive that could help her. Everything was resting on chance. She would need more than luck to get Draco's wand, a brain she did not have to get past the wards, and the intuition of a Seer to find the rest of her people if she wanted to succeed.

It was a plan doomed to the impossible. Unfortunately, it was the only option she had.

Ginny sighed as she stared out her window. The sky was painted a dark grey, becoming almost black in the distance where a storm brewed. It was going to be a horrible day, she just knew it. As if on cue, a deep growl of thunder rumbled through the sky. Rain started to fall from the thick shroud of clouds, slow at first, and then it was pelting down in heavy droplets so that all Ginny could see was the dagger-like jets of water slicing through the air.

"Just perfect," she muttered.

She had been hoping to go for a walk outside today, but there was no way she was going to trek through that weather. Not that Narcissa would let her anyway. The blonde still liked to treat her like glass and was very insistent that Ginny take extra care of herself. Walks in the rain were most definitely prohibited.

Ginny tore her eyes away from the window and made her way towards the door. She had barely opened it an inch when she heard voices coming up the hallway from the direction of the stairs.

"Someone in the inner circle has betrayed the Dark Lord," came Draco's familiar voice. "That's the only way they could have known about Potter."

Ginny gasped. They were talking about Harry. She leaned forward to listen more closely.

"Or they managed to kidnap a prisoner of their own," suggested a male voice Ginny did not recognise. "There was a whole camp-load of people at that base you attacked. Any of them would have been able to tell the Dissenters that Potter was taken."

"Then how did the Dissenters know where our base is?"

There was a pause. Ginny took the chance to open the door a bit more to get a better view.

She could see Draco standing with his arms folded and wearing a frown on his face. His companion, an unremarkable man with brown hair and sallow skin, was more relaxed in his stance, yet at the same time more agitated in expression.

"I don't know how they found it," the man admitted. "The Dissenter we caught killed himself before we could get any further information out of him, but at least we know it's Potter that they're after."

Draco shook his head. "Something just doesn't add up. I know these men. I know they would never attack the base they knew the Dark Lord to be residing in, even on the off chance that Potter was also there. They don't take risks like that, and they've never been known to attack head-on before, which you say they did."

"I suppose it is out of character for them, but it is plausible that they decided to take a risk this time. This _is_ Potter we're talking about. They've been wanting to get their hands on him for years."

"Yes, but you also said that it was an easy win and that only three of our men were killed. I know we're good, but we're not _that_ good. Something's not right about this, Nott. I can feel it."

The man, whom Ginny assumed must be Theodore Nott, gave an amused laugh. "I never would have pegged you for the tea leaves and crystal ball type."

Draco scowled. "Laugh all you want. I know I'm right."

"If you say so," Nott shrugged. "In any case, the Dark Lord thinks it would be wiser to have Potter moved to the manor here with you. We'll be bringing him by side-Apparation in fifteen minutes."

"I'll have to remove the wards for that. I had to put anti-Apparation wards all around the manor after the Dissenters started acting up. I can't have them coming here unannounced."

"You'd best sort that out now, then. The Dark Lord won't be happy if anything happens to his precious Potter."

"I know," Draco murmured, glancing away from the sallow man. To Ginny's horror, his gaze fell directly on her, and his eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion.

Ginny quickly shut the door.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, though it was not so much out of fear from being caught. She was more concerned with what she had just overheard and what she knew she now had to do. The wards were going to be removed. This was the perfect chance to make her escape from the manor, yet in order to succeed she would have to abandon Harry – her Harry – to Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It was an impossible choice to make, but one that could not be avoided.

There was once a time when she would have stood by Harry no matter what the cost to her life. She wouldn't have even paused to consider fleeing when he was about to become a prisoner in her place, but things had changed since then. She had changed.

War made monsters out of everyone, Lara had said, and in that moment Ginny knew it to be true. The moment she had discovered the wards were going to be removed, she knew, deep down, that she had already made her decision. This was too good an opportunity to pass up, and she had enough common sense to realise that even if she did stay, she would never be able to help Harry. There was no room for loyalty here. In this world, one had to fend for oneself. She had to escape, even if it meant using Harry to do it.

Ginny clenched her hands into fists. She hated herself for what she was about to do, but she knew that she had no choice. She couldn't let Voldemort win. She couldn't just give up – not when she still had a fighting chance.

"Please let this work," she muttered.

Ginny opened the door and stepped out of the room. Draco and Theodore Nott were no longer in the hallway, much to her relief. Having already learnt her lesson from the last time she had lingered when given an opportunity to escape, she quickly began to make her way down the stairs to the doors that led outside, thanking her lucky stars that Narcissa and Tinky were nowhere in sight. By her calculations, she now had about ten minutes to get to the edge of grounds and wait for the wards to be removed. From there, it was simply a matter of running as far away as possible until she could figure out a new plan. Not having a wand certainly made the 'getting away' part difficult, but she wasn't going to waste this opportunity. All she needed was a bit of luck. Either way, she had to try. She knew she was never going to get a chance like this again.

Wrenching open the doors to the grounds, Ginny ran through the pounding rain towards the hills in the distance, her dress becoming steadily wetter until it was sticking uncomfortably to her like a second layer of skin. At any other time, she would have been annoyed by the discomfort her impractical clothes afforded her, but this time she could spare no concern for the fancy – and now soaked – dress she had been forced to wear. Soon, she would be away from it all. She would be away from everything. Her spirits lifted at the thought, giving her an extra burst of speed as the rush of adrenaline surged through her. She could do this. She just had to stick to the plan.

It was several minutes later before she finally reached the boundaries of the manor. She felt rather than saw the barrier keeping her in. An uncomfortable tingling sensation jolted through her body at the contact, forcing her back, but then the feeling lifted. A delighted laugh escaped her lips. The wards had been removed. She was free.

Ginny began to run again, her heart soaring as she passed through the boundaries and into the surrounding countryside, revelling in her escape. She had actually done it. She had actually managed to get away from the manor.

She spotted a wood not too far ahead and started making her way towards it, knowing that even if she had managed to escape the manor itself, there was still a long way to go before she could call herself safe. That was when something red flashed past her face, coming so close that she could actually feel the heat of the spell against her cheek.

Ginny let out a gasp of fright. She turned her head to see a man sprinting towards her; a man with blond hair and grey eyes, which she knew would be no less menacing than the dark clouds above her.

"No, no, _no_!" Ginny muttered under her breath, forcing her legs to run faster.

Another curse soared past her, once again missing her by a hairsbreadth. She felt her stomach lurch and abruptly changed directions, hoping to throw off his aim. Draco swore loud enough for her to hear, a fact that gave her little comfort. He was unbelievably fast and was catching up to her much sooner than she had anticipated. It didn't help that she was three weeks pregnant, which in her case meant somewhere between three to four months.

Ginny could feel the tears streaming down her face, but she refused to give in. She had to keep running. She couldn't go back. Not when she was so close to being free. The forest was right there.

Maybe something would happen to help her escape from him? Maybe someone would come out of those trees right now and hex him?

Or not.

She could hear the heavy thud of his footsteps coming closer, and then something hard and very wet collided into her from behind, dragging her down onto the ground. For a moment she was too winded to do anything – not to mention trapped under the much stronger body pinning her down – but as soon as the air rushed back into her lungs, she began to fight back with everything she had.

"Get off me!" she screamed, kicking, scratching and hitting at any part of him that she could reach, not even caring that she was hurting herself in the process.

Draco let out a string of curses as he struggled to pacify her into submission. His wand had slipped from his hand when they had fallen to the ground and now lay a few feet away from them. He reached out for it now, but Ginny saw what he was trying to do and gave an almighty shove that sent him sprawling backwards. With greedy eyes, she began to scramble her own way towards the fallen wand.

"I don't think so," Draco growled, yanking her back by her leg before she could close her fingers around the wand.

Ginny immediately began kicking at him again, hearing the satisfying thwack when her foot collided with his face. He groaned in pain but did not release her leg; instead, his grip tightened. Before she knew it, she was being dragged with an alarming degree of speed towards him, fingers leaving muddy trails where her nails had dug into the ground. She shrieked in panic, trying to break free from his hold, but it was like he had suddenly gained the strength of a giant. The next thing she knew, he was straddling her hips, one hand holding both her wrists securely above her head, while the other pinned her body down with a firm hand on her shoulder.

Ginny glared up at him through the merciless rain, still trying to catch her breath from their struggle. He was breathing just as heavily, his eyes narrowed with unrestrained venom. It was a look that would have made a lesser person beg for mercy, but Ginny had never been the begging type. She was not going to cower before him now.

"Looks like I've caught you again, Ginevra," he taunted, allowing his lips to curl into a dangerous smirk.

The effect was somewhat ruined, considering he was dripping wet and splattered with mud – though Ginny knew she would look no better. However, that didn't stop her from letting out a small snarl of frustration and try to shove him off her again. Draco did not budge, only using more force to keep her down to the point where she could actually feel her body protesting in pain.

Ginny couldn't take it anymore. With tears streaming down her face, she collapsed back against the ground, breathless and defeated. It was over. He had won.

Draco stared at her suspiciously for a moment and then he finally relaxed the death grip he had on her, though not enough to let her escape.

"Had enough?" he asked, voice filled with satisfied mockery.

Ginny replied to this taunt by spitting at his face. His eyes flashed, and he actually raised his hand to strike her, but then something shifted in the grey. He abruptly let his hand drop back to his side. They stared at each other for a moment, like two cats with arched backs, both expecting the other to suddenly pounce, and then Draco let out an exasperated sigh.

"You're a real nuisance, you know that?" he muttered, dragging them both to their feet, while still keeping a firm grip on her arm so that she could not run again. It was obvious that he didn't trust her to cooperate with him.

Ginny wasn't quite sure that she even trusted herself to speak. She was still trying to come to terms with what had just happened. He had been going to hit her – she had seen it written all over his face – but then he had just let it go. He hadn't even shouted at her. It was just so strange . . .

Of course, she should have been pleased he had decided to go easy on her this time, but Ginny had experienced Draco's temper more than enough to know that this behaviour was very out of character for him. She didn't understand it, and she wasn't sure that she liked it either.

Draco finally took the time to wipe the spit from his face, shooting her another glare. Then he dragged her roughly by her arm to where his wand lay on the muddy ground. He bent down to retrieve it and, in that split-second, Ginny realised that this was the chance she had been waiting for.

She kicked him hard in the leg, sending them both sprawling to the ground again, thanks to the vice-like grip he had on her arm. With triumph gleaming in her eyes, she closed her fingers around his wand. The magic throbbed through her blood, the dormant power awakening with an overwhelming thirst for release, and it was with great satisfaction that she levelled the wand on Draco's now stunned face.

"Well, well," Ginny said, slightly breathless. "It seems the tables have turned."

"I wouldn't do that, Ginevra," Draco warned, watching her warily as he got to his feet.

"Do you think I'm scared of you? I'm the one with the wand!"

She looked half-crazed brandishing the strip of wood at him, but Draco was unmoved by her ravings and continued to stare at her in a cautious but calculating way. Ginny's brow creased. Something wasn't right. He seemed too calm for someone facing the tip of a wand.

Draco took a step towards her.

"Stay away from me!" Ginny spat, aiming the wand more firmly at him. "I'll kill you! I swear I will!"

He laughed and took another step forward. "You won't kill me, Ginevra. You don't have it in you."

"I said _stay back_!"

Sparks flew out of the wand. Draco paused in his steps, though there was still that calculating gleam in his eyes that made her feel more than a little uncomfortable.

Ginny knew she had to get rid of him. It was the reason she hadn't Disapparated yet. If she left now, he would just go tell Voldemort that she had escaped with his wand, and then they would trace it back to her and catch her. All her efforts would be wasted because of him.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. She didn't know what to do. She didn't even know where to go. All she knew was that Draco Malfoy now stood between her and freedom, and it was up to her to get rid of him.

For a moment she just stood there, hesitating in her indecision. Draco let out a low laugh.

"You Gryffindors are all the same," he murmured.

Ginny frowned. There was a flash of silver, and then her arm began to sear with pain, as if someone had just impaled a hot poker right through the limb. She dropped the wand in shock and fell to her knees, a half-stunned moan breaking from her lips. In one quick stride, Draco had claimed the stolen wand and levelled it at her face.

"You shouldn't have hesitated," he stated, smirking at having ousted her yet again.

Ginny could only gasp in pain. She stared at her arm and felt a rush of nausea twist inside her at the sight of the silver dagger sticking out of her flesh, watching as the blood oozed out from the wound like a crimson snake.

"Are you going to stop trying to escape now?" Draco asked, his voice leaving no doubt that he had well and truly lost his patience with her and would not be held accountable for the consequences if she kept pushing him.

She nodded, swallowing back her tears.

He knelt down and without preamble wrenched the dagger out of her arm. A fresh cry of pain escaped her lips. She swayed dizzily on the spot, clutching at the wound, which was now seen to be bleeding profusely.

"I did warn you," Draco reminded, wiping the dagger clean on his pants before slipping it back into its hidden sheath up his sleeve.

"Just shut up and get me back to the manor before I bleed to death," Ginny gritted out between clenched teeth, closing her eyes as her arm began to throb violently.

Draco laughed, genuinely amused by her answer – a fact that would have surprised her had she not been in so much agony. He took her wounded arm in his hand, examining it closely. One healing spell later, the deep gash in her flesh had closed. He then helped her to her feet.

"I'm not going to thank you," Ginny announced, stubborn to the last.

"I never expected you to," Draco replied, rolling his eyes. "Now hurry up. I need to put the wards back up."

She allowed him to pull her back into the boundaries of the manor and watched as he performed a few complicated spells. The air crackled with magic and then went quiet again, the only sound being the storm growling in the sky and the rain falling from its darkened face. Ginny knew the wards were back in place.

Draco looked considerably paler after this display of magic and actually swayed a little in his exhaustion. He let out a breath and then turned back to her. "Come on," he said gruffly, yanking her forward. "My mother will start fretting if we don't get back soon."

Both were silent as they began their slow trek back to the manor, neither having the energy to do much more than drag their feet. Ginny was still frustrated that her plans had been foiled, and shot another fuming glare at her captor.

"How did you know I was out here?"

"I saw you when I was removing the wards," he replied shortly.

Ginny went silent again. Her eyes fell on the sleeve where she knew the dagger was hidden. She found it strange that he hadn't just threatened her with the dagger as soon as he had realised his wand was out of his reach. He'd never shied against using violent methods on her before.

"If you had that knife all along, why didn't you just use it on me to begin with?" she asked, voicing her thoughts. "It would have saved you a lot of trouble."

Draco sighed in some exasperation. "Because you're a psychotic wench that needs a good whipping and probably would have got yourself stabbed. I wouldn't have used the dagger at all if you hadn't been so stupid and stolen my wand."

Ginny blinked, surprised by his honest, if not brutal, answer. "Why not?"

"It is not in my best interests to hurt you while you are pregnant. You, however, make it very difficult for me not to. I'm surprised you've managed to live this long with the way you carry on. Even a Saint would be tempted to commit murder with you around."

"What did you expect?" Ginny retorted, stung by his words. "You kidnap me and treat me like I'm the dirt under your boot, your stupid Dark Lord forces me to have sex with you so that I can get pregnant with the spawn of Satan here, and then, when I finally get a chance to escape, _you_ come along and ruin it. Don't you think I'm just a little justified in my frustration?"

"You're the enemy. Why should I care about your frustrations?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "So what if I'm the enemy? The world isn't split into black and white, you know. You can't tell me that you haven't felt the connection between us."

Draco came to an abrupt halt, his eyes narrowing as he swung around to face her.

"Let's get one thing straight, Ginevra. There is nothing between us. _Nothing_. All this nonsense you keep spouting about connections and feelings is all in your head. I don't care about you, I never will care about you, and the only reason I slept with you in the first place is because I haven't had a woman in a while and you just happened to offer yourself."

"You know, I might have believed that the first time, but I'm not stupid."

"No, you're just insane," Draco responded irritably.

"Maybe you're right. Only someone completely insane would enjoy being with you, but you know what, Malfoy? At least I can admit it! I hate you, believe me when I say that, but I'm not stupid enough not to realise that something changed the night we had sex. You can deny it all you want, but I've seen the way you look at me, and I know you've felt the pull just as much as I have."

"You're delusional," Draco spat, walking ahead.

"Delusional?" Ginny cried, stomping to catch up with his longer strides. "The only delusional one here is _you_!"

"Shut up!" he growled, rounding on her again. "You have no idea how close I am to losing my patience with you, Ginevra, so unless you want to resemble a pincushion by the time we get back inside, I suggest you keep your stupid mouth shut."

Ginny scowled at him, but she swallowed back the considerable number of retorts that came to her tongue and said no more. They walked in fuming silence back to the manor, the tension between them so palpable that one could almost see the sparks crackling around them. Draco threw open the door to the entrance hall, glowering after her as she walked inside, and then slammed it shut behind him. Their eyes met, each matching glare for glare. Ginny lifted her chin haughtily and stalked towards the stairs, trailing mud and water with every step, and then nearly collided with Narcissa, who was coming from the other direction.

"What on earth have you been doing?" Narcissa exclaimed, stunned out of her usual calm. "You're absolutely soaked to the bone, and is that _blood_ on your arm, Ginevra?"

Ginny glanced down at her blood-smeared sleeve and gave a bitter laugh. "I almost forgot about that."

And he called her psychotic. She wasn't the one throwing hidden daggers at people.

"Ginevra tried to escape, Mother," Draco explained, scowling at the redhead. "I had to take drastic measures to ensure her cooperation."

"I hope you weren't too rough with her, Draco. You know she's in a delicate situation at the moment."

"I had no choice," Draco snapped, losing his patience. "It's not my fault she's stupid enough to run away and then refused to comply when I tried to bring her back."

Narcissa's eyes flickered with displeasure towards Ginny. "Well, there's nothing we can do about that now. Come, Ginevra," she said, taking the redhead by the arm. "Let's get you cleaned up. You're going to catch your death if you stay in those wet clothes any longer."

Ginny threw one last glare at Draco and then allowed herself to be steered up to her room by the masterful blonde, where she was then stripped naked and dumped unceremoniously into the bathtub of hot water. Narcissa grimly washed Ginny's hair for her while the redhead scrubbed at herself. The water had turned a horrible murky colour, but Ginny didn't seem to care. She was too busy glowering at the tell-tale marks left on her body from her latest dispute with her captor. Already, she could see the bruises forming on her pale skin, and a thin, red line now remained where the dagger had pierced into her arm.

How she hated him, though at the moment she was just as furious with herself.

Why did she do it? Why couldn't she have just kept her stupid mouth shut? It wasn't as if she _liked_ him. For all she knew, the great 'connection' between them might be credited all to lust. He certainly didn't seem to care much about her. When he'd looked at her after she'd said that she knew he felt the pull too, his contempt for her had been all too obvious.

Ginny inwardly sighed. This was ridiculous. Maybe he was right? Maybe she _was_ insane? Why else would she have feelings for a man who threw daggers at her and kept her prisoner? Only someone completely sick and masochistic would do that.

And yet, however improbable the idea might be, she just _knew_ that there was something between them. It couldn't just be lust; it couldn't just be because she was insane – as she was beginning to believe that insanity for her was unavoidable at this point. There was something there, and she found herself incredibly irritated by the fact that he refused to admit it.

"Something is bothering you," Narcissa observed, rinsing out the shampoo from Ginny's hair.

A scowl twisted Ginny's lips. "I hate your son."

"He was only doing what he had to do, Ginevra," Narcissa responded coolly. "If you had escaped, Draco and I would be executed by the Dark Lord without a second thought."

"Draco wouldn't have cared about that," Ginny retorted, though she did feel a stab of guilt for having put Narcissa's life in danger. She'd been so caught up in her selfish thoughts for freedom that she hadn't even considered what would happen to the blonde.

"Maybe not," Narcissa allowed, able to admit that in many ways it was wishful thinking that her son still cared about her safety, "but it is true that we would both be killed if you had managed to escape. I hope you consider that the next time you decide to get some harebrained notion into your head."

Ginny stiffened, her ready anger boiling to the surface. "I'm sorry, am I supposed to just sit here and wear fancy dresses, having this spawn inside of me making every day of my life rotten, just waiting obediently for it to pop out so Voldemort can perform his stupid sacrifice and kill me?"

Narcissa sighed. "You know I don't want that to happen to you, Ginevra."

"But that is what _will_ happen if I don't escape. Don't you see? No miracles are going to happen to get me out of this mess! Voldemort isn't going to suddenly choke and die on his dinner or suddenly have a change of heart and start spouting world peace."

"Now you're raving."

"That's because I'm sick of this! I'm so sick of being a pawn for people to shove around wherever they like. I'm not an asset, I'm not a damn vessel for demon spawns, and I'm not going to let myself be killed by some lunatic that has an obsession for power!"

"And what of my son and me?" Narcissa responded, her voice like ice. "Do you think I am going to let you put our lives in danger simply because you don't feel like being a prisoner anymore? This is our lives you're playing with as well, Ginevra. Never forget that."

Ginny looked away, her lip trembling as tears burned at her eyes.

Narcissa's expression softened. "Things will change for the better, Ginevra. Just be patient, and for Merlin's sake, don't go running off like that again. You know my son has a temper. The last thing we need is for him to hurt the child."

"The child! The child! The child!" Ginny exclaimed, anger bubbling to the surface again. "That's all I hear about now. I hate this bloody child!"

Narcissa frowned. "I think you're clean enough."

"You're just saying that because you don't like my outbursts," Ginny muttered, though she did feel a little subdued by Narcissa's icy calmness. The woman always knew how to put her back in her place.

"Yes, Ginevra, I am. I think you're being ridiculous, as you well know. Now get dressed, and maybe I shall take you to see the Potter boy. He is a friend of yours, isn't he?"

Ginny's eyes immediately lit up. "You'll take me to see Harry?"

"If it will stop these infernal ravings of yours."

Ginny beamed, taking that as a compliment, and immediately began to dry herself. She quickly got dressed and then announced to Narcissa that she was ready. The blonde took in her sloppy appearance, barely repressing smile, and motioned for Ginny to follow her. They walked down the hallway towards the other side of the guest chambers. Narcissa paused outside one of the doors and opened it carefully.

"Draco hasn't exactly forbidden you to see the Potter boy," she said quietly, "but I have a feeling he would not be happy if he knew I had brought you here. You'd best keep this to yourself."

Ginny nodded.

"Good girl," Narcissa said, and then pushed the door the rest of the way open. "I'll wait here. Don't take too long."

Nodding again, Ginny entered the room and heard the door click shut behind her. She stared at the bed, her heart clenching as she saw the familiar face of her fallen lover, his iconic, lightning bolt scar standing out vividly against his forehead. It had been so long she had seen him, and she was surprised to see that he actually looked healthier than the last time she had gazed into his face. He was still emaciated, but his cheeks were less sunken somehow, his body less thin. Was it possible that the Death Eaters had been healing him? If so, why?

Ginny shook off these troubling questions and sat down on the bed beside him, gently stroking his cheek. Her eyes began to sting, and once again she found herself swallowing against the uncomfortable lump in her throat.

"Oh, Harry," she whispered, "I've done something terrible."

There was so much she needed to confess to him. The guilt was almost too much to bear. Before she knew it, she was revealing all that had happened between herself and Draco, as well as her own selfish actions that very day.

"I was going to leave you, Harry," she choked out, tears trailing down her cheeks. "I was just going to leave you here and escape myself. I betrayed you. I've betrayed everyone. I don't even know who I am anymore. I feel like I'm losing myself to the Malfoys, as if I'm becoming one of them, and I'm scared . . ."

She gripped his hand, her head bowed. "I wish you were here with me now."

"As touching as this is," said a cold voice that Ginny had no trouble recognising, "I will not have you coming near my prisoner."

Ginny released Harry's limp hand and spun around to see Draco leaning against the wall, surveying her coolly through hard, grey eyes.

"What happened to Narcissa?"

"I sent her away. My mother may be my mother, but you forget, Ginevra, that she is just as much a prisoner as you."

"I don't know how you live with yourself," Ginny responded spitefully. "After all your mother has done for you, sacrificing everything so that you can be safe, you just go and throw it back in her face by keeping her a prisoner in her own home."

Draco's jaw clenched. "It wasn't my decision."

"And yet you still lord over her and go on power trips every moment she crosses you."

"My mother has been branded a traitor. It's because of me that she is still alive, but you wouldn't understand that, Ginevra. You're nothing but a naïve little girl."

Ginny lifted her chin. "Naïve I may be, but at least I'm not breaking my mother's heart and treating her like a whipping boy."

"No, you aren't," Draco agreed, "but then you don't have a mother."

For a moment Ginny just glared at him, tears welling up in her eyes. Then she ran out of the room without another word, no doubt to go sob her pathetic little heart out on her pillow.

Draco knew it had been a low blow to mention her mother, who he knew she had witnessed dying from the memories he had seen in her mind, but he had already used up his patience quota for her that day. Besides, she had dealt a low blow herself by bringing up his mother.

His eyes flicked to the man lying on the bed and a scornful look came onto his face. Why was she crying over Potter? He had known she had held a crush on the idiot during their school days, but she couldn't surely have feelings for the raven-haired man now?

Not having the answer to this question, it was with a decidedly disquieted mind that Draco left the room.


	9. The Dissenters

**The Dissenters**

"Are you almost finished?" Ginny demanded, staring up at the roof.

She was currently lying on her bed, her nightdress pulled up to bare her protruding stomach, while Lara did the usual weekly check-up to see how the baby was progressing. Ginny hated these checkups. A sticky potion was spread over her belly that was supposed to allow the magic to sense the baby's development. Ginny just found it cold and annoying. Then there was the sensor: a magical instrument that looked like a handle with a smooth ball at the top, which Lara ran over her stomach to sense the baby inside. The image was then projected on a clear surface, much like a mirror, for Lara to see. Ginny wouldn't have minded this part so much, except that it tickled and left her feeling unpleasantly tingly all over her stomach.

Lara pulled the sensor away from Ginny's stomach. "Everything looks well." She wiped away the remaining potion with a cloth and stepped back. "The child is coming along fine."

"That is _not_ what I wanted to hear," Ginny scowled, tugging her nightgown back down to cover herself.

"Be grateful that your baby is healthy, Ginevra. The Dark Lord would not be happy if it started having complications, especially now that you're so close to the birthing stage."

"He never seems to be happy about anything," Ginny muttered, sitting up on the bed, "but thank you for reminding me of my impending death."

Normally, Lara would have made a joke at this, or at least one of her usual blunt comments, but she only gave a distracted smile and started collecting her things together. Ginny frowned at the brunette. Something wasn't right.

It was true that Lara was a rather enigmatic woman, but she had never been so quiet and distracted. Lara had yelled, laughed, mocked, and given advice; however, Ginny had never seen her as distant as this. There was no impatient hair tossing, no secretive laughs and smiles, no mysterious comments. She just did what she had been ordered to do. Ginny realised somewhat sadly that Lara hadn't even called her 'girlie' since coming to the manor. It was a nickname that, to Ginny at least, allowed the two women to have a more friendly relationship. Lara always used it when she was teasing.

"Is everything okay, Lara?" Ginny asked, if a little hesitantly.

Their relationship may be a little out of the ordinary, but Ginny was still wary of the woman. Lara was a Death Eater, after all, and even if she was different to the others, she had never once shown that she did not faithfully serve her master.

Lara blinked, as if suddenly realising that Ginny was still there. "Oh. It's nothing, really. I just have a lot on my mind right now." She laughed a little ironically. "Very much so, in fact."

"You're not just talking about a few problems troubling the brain, are you?"

Lara stared at her in a measuring way, as if determining whether to tell the truth. "No," she said finally, a wry smile twisting her lips, "I'm not."

Ginny waited expectantly for Lara to go on.

"You're a curious little thing, aren't you?" Lara observed, somewhat amused. She once again gave that scrutinising stare and then laughed to herself. "Well, why not? What harm can it do to tell you, after all?"

Not having a clue what Lara was talking about, Ginny saw fit to remain silent. She could barely contain her curiosity to learn more about the woman in front of her.

Lara leaned forward, blue eyes locking on Ginny's. "I'm sure you've gathered by now that I have magical abilities one might consider rare in the wizarding world?"

"Yes," Ginny admitted, "but I'm not exactly sure what those abilities are."

Lara smiled. "Well, it is hard to define. In many ways I am much like a Seer, except I don't see or predict prophecies like Seers do. I sense things instead."

"_Sense_ things?"

"Yes. It's hard to explain, but I suppose one way to look at it would be to imagine the world as a canvas of lines. If the lines are straight, it means that everything is normal and progressing as it should be; if the lines are wavy, it means that something is wrong. My powers allow me to see those lines."

"So you can sense everything that is happening in the world?"

Lara chuckled. "No. To take on that much at once would kill me. To sense a disturbance in the equilibrium of the world is not a comfortable experience. Often, I will get headaches – migraines, depending on how powerful the disturbances are – but always there is some unwanted side effect. That's why I have to limit my focus to a few people at the most. It's too dangerous otherwise, but lately the Dark Lord has been asking more from me."

There was a definite scowl at this, which Ginny couldn't help but smile at. She could just imagine how irritated Lara would be by Voldemort's requests.

"That's how I knew about the child's unnatural growth," Lara continued. "I could sense a disturbance in the equilibrium surrounding you and the baby, which could only mean that something that was not meant to happen had happened. The limitation of my power is that I can never sense a clear picture of what is happening, I only get the _feeling_ that something is wrong."

"So you can only sense the present?"

"It's easier to sense the present, but if I focus enough, I can catch glimpses of the future. It's only a feeling, of course, but it would be enough to sense if danger is coming."

"Wow."

"I assure you, it's no picnic," Lara said grumpily. "It was bad enough before when I was just following the Dark Lord, Draco, and you, but now I'm being forced to track the Dissenters' movements as well. They've been suspiciously active over the past two weeks, and because I have no clear figure to follow, it makes it even harder for me to pinpoint what their next move will be. That means a whole lot of headaches."

Ginny frowned. The Dissenters were the ones who had been searching for Harry and attacking the Death Eater bases, but Harry was at Malfoy manor now . . .

Lara rubbed her temples tiredly. "I shouldn't even be telling you this. Draco and Bellatrix are the only other people besides the Dark Lord who know the real truth."

"I won't tell anyone," Ginny promised. "Anyway, it's not like I have anyone to tell. I'm a prisoner, remember?"

"I suppose," Lara chuckled. "I hope you aren't planning any more escape acts?"

"You knew about that?"

Lara rolled her eyes. "Really, girlie, after everything I just told you, you're still daft enough to wonder how I know about everything. The disturbances aren't just limited to unnatural occurrences, you know. I _can_ focus on what I want to find out. In your case, my sole focus is to ensure that you remain at the manor and that you and the child are both healthy. Naturally, I am going to notice if you try to escape and get hurt in the process."

"That's some gift," Ginny remarked, reluctantly awestruck, even though she had just realised that escaping was now very much out of the question with Lara around.

"Perhaps. Right now I'd rather not have to deal with it."

"Are the headaches that bad?"

Lara sighed. "Sometimes. It's more than just headaches, though. Trying to follow too many things at once may be dangerous in the sense that it uses too much mental power, but it also means that it's harder to focus in general. It's like trying to spread a small amount of butter over a large slice of bread. It's just not possible to cover everything satisfactorily; the best you can hope for is a very thin coating."

"So there are gaps in what you can sense?"

"Yes, there are gaps," Lara murmured, turning her face to stare out the window. "And right now I get the feeling that I'm missing something important. I just don't know what it is."

**OOOO**

Ginny was still frowning over Lara's words when she came down for dinner that night. It had taken a lot to process everything, but she guessed that she should have seen it coming. Lara always had carried that air of omniscience about her. She was much like Dumbledore in that respect. Ginny wondered if he too had been able to sense things like Lara had.

"Is everything all right, Ginevra?" Narcissa asked, noticing the furrowed brow and downcast lips.

"Oh," Ginny said distractedly. "Yes, everything is fine."

Ginny sat down at her usual seat and poured herself a glass of water, trying to ignore the way a pair of grey eyes followed her every move. As with everything when it came to Draco, this proved difficult.

They had not spoken much since the day she had tried to escape. Ginny felt her temper flare at just the thought of all the things he had said and done to her, but there was more than anger festering inside her. She felt embarrassed too. Embarrassed that she had confessed her feelings to him, while he had simply thrown everything back in her face.

Her eyes darted involuntary to his, bidden by that commanding stare. He caught and held her gaze, the grey an unrelenting force piercing into her brown. She felt naked before him, like all her defences and airs of defiance were as transparent as the glass she held in her hand. The tension grew, her heart sped up, and then, as if he could hear the beating organ thumping against her ribs, his lips curled slowly into a smirk.

Ginny felt her cheeks grow hot and took a sip of her drink, averting her gaze from the handsome man opposite her.

Draco's smirk grew, so that his eyes were glinting with malicious humour. "You're looking a little flushed, Ginevra. It's not too hot for you in here, is it?"

She almost choked on her water, but, thankfully, she managed to swallow it just in time before she started coughing uncontrollably. Her cheeks were now very red, and her eyes were like daggers when she finally raised them back to his.

"I'm fine, thank you."

Silver gleamed with silent laughter.

Ginny had the sudden urge to throw the rest of her water at his face. She knew what he was trying to do. He had always delighted in humiliating her, and it seemed that now was no different.

She should never have told him that she was attracted to him. He was a Slytherin: it was just in his nature to take advantage of other people's weaknesses, and why should she be exempt from that? She should have known better. She should have kept a greater control over her tongue. If anything, she should have known that he was not to be trusted.

Draco turned his attention back to his mother, apparently having had his fun. Ginny found this open act of dismissal even more annoying than his taunts. It made her feel insignificant, as if she was nothing more to him than a source of amusement that he easily tired of.

He did not look at her again during the dinner. Needless to say, Ginny was fuming by the time she returned to her room.

She slammed her door shut, muttering a string of derogatory names under breath that told all too well what she thought of the handsome blond and his behaviour. One of these days she would put him in his place. She would make sure of it.

Ginny got changed out of her clothes and into one of the silky nightgowns, and then did the usual routine of washing her face and brushing her teeth. She let out her hair from its plait and began to drag her brush through it, a scowl twisting her lips.

"Stupid Draco," she muttered, glaring at her reflection as she tugged the brush through a particularly knotty part of hair. "Thinks he's so clever . . ."

A scraping noise sounded outside her window. Ginny frowned and placed her brush down. She stood up from the stool and walked over to the window, pulling back the curtain to peer outside. The moon was completely hidden by black clouds. She could only see the grounds bathed in shadow, forming odd shapes and figures in the misty darkness. No sign could be seen of the thing that had made the noise.

"Strange," Ginny murmured, and though she would never admit it, felt just a little unnerved.

She pulled the curtain back over the window, blew out the candle, and then clambered into her bed, pulling the covers right up to her chin. It was a warm night, but somehow she felt safer when fully covered.

Even though Ginny told herself not to listen, she found herself straining her ears for any sound of that strange noise long after she had climbed into the bed. She didn't hear it.

_Get a grip! It was probably just an owl._

Yes, she thought, just an owl. There was no reason to panic.

Comforted by this prosaic view of the matter, Ginny finally began to relax. Her eyes closed, her breathing steadied, and then she was slowly drifting off to sleep.

She did not stir when the scraping noise started up again. Nor did she wake when the curtain fluttered with the cool breeze let in from the previously closed window. She just slept, completely oblivious to the dark figure now creeping towards her.

The moon slipped out from behind the clouds, extending its silvery fingers right into the room to touch Ginny's eyelids. She made a sleepy noise and rolled over in the bed, hugging the pillow more closely to herself. Her intruder, which was revealed to be a man dressed head to foot in black, paused for a moment. He was waiting to see if she would wake or not. Satisfied that she was still asleep, he moved closer and leaned over her in the bed, his hand getting ready to clamp over her mouth.

It was in that moment that Ginny's eyes snapped open. She got a brief glimpse of a hideous, black mask, shaped with no features at all except for the eyes peering out through the slits, and then she let out a bloodcurdling scream and pushed with all her might at the man leaning over her. The man fell back with a grunt. Ginny wasted no time and leapt out of the bed, her feet thumping on the floor just as loudly as her heart as she raced towards the door. She wrenched it open, almost skidding as she ran out into the hallway, and just barely managed to dodge the curse the man had thrown at her.

Ginny didn't stop. She kept running, barely able to see in the darkness, but knowing that if she hesitated now, it was all over. Her body was pumping with adrenaline, her heart pounding so hard that it felt like her ribs were going to splinter at any moment from the pressure. She could hear the man chasing her, his heavy feet thumping down the hallways like an ominous war drum. It was the sound of defeat, and Ginny knew it was coming for her.

Her eyes fell on a vase resting on one of the cabinets. She grabbed it and, without even really thinking about what she was going to do, threw it back as hard as she could. The resounding smash and loud curse was enough to tell her that the vase had found its mark, but Ginny didn't pause to check to see how much damage she had done.

Turning down another hallway, she was just deciding whether to hide in one of the rooms or keep running, when an arm came out of nowhere and yanked her into the shadowy alcove. She let out a yelp of surprise, but a hand was swiftly clamped over her mouth, and she suddenly found herself trapped against a man's body. Ginny began to struggle against the strong arms holding her in place, tears spilling freely down her face. She was so scared she could barely breathe.

"Relax," a voice whispered from somewhere near her ear – a voice that Ginny had no trouble recognising, and one that she thought could never give her so much relief as it did now.

Her body instinctively obeyed the curt command. The hand was removed from her mouth. Ginny turned to see Draco staring down at her, his grey eyes just visible in the semidarkness. She couldn't explain why she suddenly felt safe in that moment. All she knew was that feeling his arms around her like that made her feel like nothing in the world could hurt her. She was safe. She was with him.

"I need you to stay quiet," Draco said, giving her a warning look.

Ginny nodded obediently.

He adjusted his hold on her, keeping one arm around her waist to hold her close to him, and then gripped his wand more firmly with his free hand. He pulled her with him so that they were both flat against the wall, then, very carefully, he edged closer to where the hallway curved to connect with the one Ginny had just fled.

Ginny's heart was still hammering against her ribs, but she felt less afraid now. His presence had a calming effect over her, as strange as it was to believe. However, she was still well aware of the danger they were in. She was just glad that she was with him and not facing the unknown man alone.

"Come out, come out, little witch," a smooth voice called tauntingly. "I know you're hiding around here somewhere."

Ginny tensed and held onto Draco more tightly, her eyes staring fearfully towards the darkened hallway. She could hear the man's footsteps coming closer and was once again grateful for the solidness and reassuring warmth of the body shielding her.

"Very well," the man continued, his voice so close now that Ginny knew he must be just around the corner, "I'll let you play your little game of hide and seek, but I will find you, little witch. I always do . . ."

The footsteps came even closer. Ginny wondered why Draco wasn't doing anything. Was he really going to just let them get caught?

Just when she thought that they were sure to be discovered and killed, the blond suddenly moved with deadly speed. There was a blinding flash of white, a heavy thud, and then everything went still once more.

"Unfortunately for you," Draco murmured, a half-smile curling his lips as he stared down at the black heap on the floor, "I found her first."

Ginny let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding and stared at the lifeless man. "Is he dead?"

"Not yet." Draco eyes fastened on hers. "Were there any more of them?"

"I—I don't know. There was only one in my room, but—"

He started running again without another word, dragging Ginny along with him. They were heading in the direction of her bedroom, and she could tell by his clenched jaw that he was worried.

She was still trying to catch her breath when they stopped, not at her door, but at the one where Harry was being kept. He blasted open the door with his wand, just catching sight of another black-clothed man holding what looked like an old necklace in his hand, while reaching out towards Harry's unconscious figure.

Draco didn't hesitate. Ginny heard the two, deadly words hiss from his mouth, and then the room was filled with a sickly green light. Once again there was a thud, but this time she didn't need to ask whether the man was alive or not. She already knew his fate.

Harry remained on the bed, oblivious to the world around him. Ginny didn't think it could be possible, but she was glad in that moment that Draco was such a ruthless killer. If he had hesitated even a second, she knew that Harry would have been Portkeyed beyond their reach by now.

"Do you think that was the last of them?" she asked, turning her face to look up at the blond.

"I don't know." He frowned to himself and then glanced at the dead man. "Tinky!"

The house-elf immediately appeared in a low bow. "Master called?"

"Check the rest of the house for intruders. Kill any that you find."

"Yes, Master."

"Make sure my mother is safe while you're at it. No doubt she would have been disturbed by the commotion, but she's smart enough not to leave her room while we're being attacked. Tell her I'll come see her later."

"Yes, Master," Tinky said, bowing again, and then vanished with a loud crack.

"Come on," Draco said, tugging Ginny forward.

"Wait! What about Harry? We can't just leave him here! They might come back for him."

Draco glanced at Harry and cursed under his breath. He released Ginny and walked over to where Harry was lying, then picked up the emaciated body and slung him over his shoulder. He gripped his wand more tightly and turned his eyes back on her.

"Right, let's go, but stay close to me. I won't be able to protect you if you're too far away."

Ginny nodded and followed him out of the room. They managed to get back to the man Draco had cursed in the hallway without any further trouble. Draco stopped and levelled his wand at the unconscious man, using a simple levitating charm to lift him up from the ground.

"I need you to open that door," Draco said, gesturing to the closed door a few feet away from them.

Ginny obliged, holding it open for him as he guided the man into the room with his wand. He motioned for her to go inside, following with Harry, and then shut the door behind him with a snap. Draco dumped Harry on one of the couches and then turned to the masked figure now lying on the floor. He dragged the man over towards one of the armchairs, hauling him up so that he was sitting on the chair, and then calmly conjured chains to keep the man in place.

"What are you going to do with him?" Ginny asked, watching the blond in some trepidation.

"Interrogate him."

Ginny didn't like the sound of that, but she was so exhausted from everything that had happened that she simply collapsed into a chair and watched as Draco used the _Enervate_ spell to wake up the man. Immediately, he began to thrash against his chains. Draco walked forward and pulled the mask of the other's face, revealing a rather handsome young man with dark skin and slanted eyes. Ginny knew by Draco's openly surprised expression that he had not been expecting to see this particular person under the mask.

"Blaise Zabini?" Draco exclaimed, eyes narrowing. "_You're_ a Dissenter?"

Blaise smiled as soon as he realised who was before him, showing every one of his perfectly white teeth. "Long time no see, Draco. I do wish we could have reacquainted ourselves under better circumstances. How about you just let me go now and we can try again?"

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Well, you have sided with the Dark Lord. I would say that rates pretty high on the idiocy scales."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "And yet you're the one chained to a chair. Funny that."

Some of Blaise's arrogance flickered, but he tried to cover his worry by plastering a mocking smile on his lips. "What? Are you going to kill an old school friend?"

"Yes," Draco said bluntly, "but first you're going to tell me what you know. If you cooperate, I might even kill you quickly."

"I'm not telling you anything."

"Oh, I think you will," Draco replied, smirking somewhat maliciously. "I'm very gifted at getting information out of people."

Ginny saw the fear shining in Blaise's eyes and knew that she didn't want to watch this. She averted her face, but nothing could stop the loud snap of bone being broken or the scream of pain that followed.

"Tell me how you knew Potter and Ginevra were here," Draco demanded, staring calmly into his old friend's eyes.

"No."

There was another crack of bone snapping. This time the scream turned into more of a sob.

"Let's try that again, shall we? How did you know they were here? Is there someone in the Dark Lord's inner circle working for you?"

Silence.

Draco sighed and snapped two more of Blaise's fingers. "You have four more fingers left, Blaise. You do not want to know what happens when I run out of fingers to break."

Blaise groaned in pain, his breathing ragged. Ginny knew exactly how he was feeling, having had her own fingers broken by Draco. Still, though she was sickened by the violence the blond was displaying, she found that she had little sympathy for the man chained to the chair. Blaise had been going to kidnap her. If she was going to be anyone's captive, she knew that she would prefer to be Draco's.

"Still not up for talking?" Draco taunted. "Very well." Another finger was bent back. "Let's start small. How did you get past my wards? You have three seconds to answer before I break another finger."

Blaise remained silent.

Draco wrenched back the middle finger, holding it down just a little longer so that the pain was increased. Three more seconds passed and then another finger was broken, and then another.

"Well done for lasting this long, Blaise," Draco praised with mocking amusement. "Your leader would be so proud." He slipped the dagger out of his sleeve and calmly placed the tip at the corner of Blaise's right eye. "Let's see if I can get your tongue loosened with this. I've never quite managed to pop an eye out in one go, but I'm sure we can gouge it out if it proves difficult."

"All right! All right!" Blaise sobbed as Draco began to place pressure on the blade. "I'll talk."

Draco stepped back and folded his arms, his expression grim. "Then talk."

"There is someone in the inner circle who has betrayed the Dark Lord. I can't tell you who, I don't know myself, but whoever it is has been feeding us information. They told us about how you and your men attacked one of the refugee camps and kidnapped Potter and some girl. Later we found out that both the girl and you had gone missing from the Death Eater headquarters."

"Go on," Draco prompted, watching him intently.

Blaise swallowed. "We decided that if the girl was important enough for the Dark Lord to kidnap, then she'd be useful for us too. Our correspondent suggested we check Malfoy manor. We did, but we couldn't get inside because of the wards. That was when we decided to stage an attack on the Death Eater headquarters to make it look like we were going solely after Potter."

"I see," Draco murmured. "You were hoping that they would move Potter here to me, knowing that I would have to remove the wards to receive him."

"Yes. We knew that if we attacked the headquarters directly and tried to get Potter that the Dark Lord would send him to you for safekeeping until things settled down. Another man and I were stationed here to see if we could ascertain what wards you had used and break them ourselves."

"Obviously you succeeded," Draco interposed. "I do wonder how, though."

"It was by mere chance," Blaise admitted. "We saw the girl trying to escape and you following her. We knew it would be stupid to attempt anything with you there and all the Death Eaters that were bringing Potter over, so we waited. Luckily for us, you put the wards back up for us to see and hear."

Draco inwardly cursed at his own stupidity. Of course he should never have put the wards back up while so vulnerable to prying ears and eyes.

"So you managed to get past the boundary wards," Draco said aloud, changing the subject. "How did you get in the house itself?"

Blaise smiled. "You have this place warded against magic only. I admit it took us a while to figure it out, but we managed to work out that if we came in at night when you were all asleep, it would be a simple matter of scaling the wall, forcing the window open, and then getting the girl and Potter out via Portkey. As long as we didn't use magic, no one would know we were here."

"But that didn't work out to plan, did it, Blaise?"

"No. That stupid girl woke up before I could Portkey away with her and started screaming."

"And that's when you lost your head and fired that curse," Draco remarked amicably. "Silly of you, really. I might not have even realised what was happening at first, except your spell alerted me to your presence and gave away your exact position."

"It doesn't matter. There'll be more of us to come."

"Oh no, Blaise," Draco said calmly, "there won't be any more of your little friends coming here. You see, from what I can gather, you and your companion were the only ones who knew how to get past my wards. Since I've already killed your friend, that leaves only you with this vital information."

Blaise swallowed hard. "You're wrong. I went back and told the others how to get past the wards."

"I think you're lying," the blond responded. "I think you've been hiding in those hills for a week, just waiting for your chance to sneak in here. It didn't even occur to you to tell the others how to get in should your plan fail, as I know that you're far too arrogant to even assume that something could go wrong with one of your plans. You truly thought that you were going to succeed, didn't you, Blaise? But Ginevra is _my_ prisoner, and I will _never_ let you have her."

Blaise's eyes widened in fear at the possessive and very threatening expression that came to Draco's face at these last words.

"Malfoy, wait! Don't kill me," Blaise begged, knowing what that frightening expression meant. "I'll join you. I'll tell you everything you need to know about the Dissenters. We can get them together."

Draco laughed and pulled out his wand, aiming it calmly at the other man's head. "Do you really think I would trust someone like you who betrays their own at the first sign of death?"

"I—"

"_Avada Kedavra_."

The green light shot out from the wand and buried itself in Blaise's head. The life vanished from the amber eyes in an instant, and his head drooped towards his lap as he went limp against his chains.

Draco turned and met Ginny's horrified gaze.

"You just killed him," she whispered, "even though he was begging you to let him live."

"Don't be naïve, Ginevra. He would have killed us both if he got the chance. I know what that scum is like."

"But to just kill him like that, and the way you tortured him . . ."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm a Death Eater, Ginevra. This is what I do. Deal with it."

Ginny frowned at her hands. She knew she should have expected something like this from him. She wasn't even sure why seeing him torture and kill Blaise had unsettled her so much. It wasn't like she hadn't seen Draco kill and torture before; hell, he had even tortured _her_.

It was stupid, really. She realised that now, for how could she have expected a man like him, who was so ruthless, so efficient in his ability to hurt, to not behave that way towards someone who had just invaded his house and nearly stolen his prisoners? Draco was the perfect Death Eater. He didn't hesitate, didn't squirm at the thought of having to be cruel. He just did what he had to do, and he did it well. Ginny had to admit that even if his methods were not what she could condone, they were effective.

Still, somehow she had been expecting more from him.

"I need to go check on my mother and put the wards back up," Draco announced, moving towards the door. "Wait here with Potter. I'll be back soon."

"You can't leave me here with him!" Ginny shrieked, pointing at the dead body in the chair.

Draco's lips twitched into what might have been a smile. "You'll survive, I'm sure."

Ginny started to protest, but he was gone before she could even finish her sentence. She sighed, glancing at Blaise's body, and was barely able to repress a shudder at the bent fingers she could see sticking out in odd angles.

Her stomach twisted sickeningly. Ginny quickly turned her chair around so that she was not facing the body and instead stared at Harry's unconscious form. Normally she wasn't so squeamish – this wasn't the first dead body she had seen, after all – but after witnessing Blaise being tortured and then killed, she felt a little justified in her nausea right now.

"Draco had better hurry up," she muttered, clutching her stomach.

Not only did she not like the fact that she was trapped in a room with a dead body, but she was still rather shaken from everything that had happened. Waking up to see a masked man leaning over her was certainly not the most thrilling experience, neither was it fun to be chased down dark corridors without any means of protection.

She could still remember the immense relief that had swept over her when she had heard Draco's voice telling her to relax, and wondered idly why it was that she had felt so safe in his arms. The cold, rational side of her brain suggested that it was simply because he was the lesser of the two evils. Though her captor, it was likely that he at least would protect her from other enemies. The less pragmatic part of her brain wondered if it was because of something entirely different – something even that dreamy little voice was afraid to name.

Ginny was still lost in these musings when Draco returned to the room.

"Is Narcissa okay?" Ginny asked, standing up at his entrance.

"She's fine. We've both agreed that it would be better if you and Potter are moved over to our area of the manor, just in case anything like this happens again."

"Do you think more people will come, then?"

"The Dissenters are very determined."

"But you said that they won't be able to get past the wards. You said that only Blaise and that other guy knew, and both of them are dead."

"The manor isn't impenetrable. They won't be able to use the same plan again, but you can be sure that they'll think of some other way to get in here. They always do."

A cold chill crept down her spine at the thought.

"How did Lara not sense this?" Draco muttered, more to himself. "You and Potter could have both been kidnapped and none of us would have known any better."

Ginny's eyes flicked towards him and then fell quickly back to her hands. She knew about Lara's secret, but Draco didn't know that she knew. It was probably better that it stayed that way as well.

"Didn't Zabini say that there was a traitor in the Dark Lord's inner circle?" Ginny asked, suddenly remembering this fact.

"Yes," Draco spat, his eyes narrowing. "Someone has been very sneaky to manage that one without being suspected. I'm going to have a lot to chat about with Lara tomorrow."

"You're leaving the manor?"

Draco shook his head. "No. The Dark Lord and Lara will be coming here. She would have come now, but if I know anything about the Dark Lord, he'll be showing her his personal displeasure at her inability to realise what was going to happen sooner."

Ginny understood now. Lara must have sensed the Dissenter attack a bit too late and was unable to give them any warning beforehand.

"It doesn't matter now, anyway," Draco sighed. "It's over and done with, and there's nothing we can do about it for the moment."

He flicked his wand at Harry, who levitated from the seat so that he was hovering a few inches from the floor. Draco then began to guide Harry out of the room.

"Come on," Draco said, gesturing for Ginny to follow. "I'll take you to your new room."

"Okay."

They walked in silence down the hallways to where the master bedrooms were kept. Draco deposited Harry in one of them and then led Ginny to another room. He used his wand to bring the candles to life and then turned to face her.

"The rest of your belongings will be brought here tomorrow. You should get some sleep for now."

"Are you kidding?" Ginny exclaimed. "I'm never going to be able to sleep after what just happened. I'll be terrified that someone is going to come creeping in through my window again."

"No one is going to come through your window."

"It doesn't matter! I still won't be able to sleep!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Then don't sleep, but _I_, on the other hand, am tired and do want to go back to bed."

He started moving towards the door at the words, but a small tug on his arm made him stop.

"What?" he said shortly.

Ginny chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes ridiculously vulnerable as they stared up into his cold grey irises. "Could you—I mean, would you please stay with me?"

Draco blinked, genuinely surprised at the request.

"You don't have to do anything," she hurriedly went on to explain. "I just—I just don't want to be alone right now. Not after everything that happened."

"Let me get this straight," Draco said slowly. "You want _me_ to stay here with you so that you don't feel scared?"

She nodded, faint tinges of pink blossoming on her cheeks.

"That is ridiculous."

Ginny's blush deepened. She knew it was a rather odd request, considering that he was her captor and had just killed two men before her eyes, but right now he was the only thing close to security that she had. She just couldn't stay alone in this room tonight, not after everything that had happened. No matter how strong or brave she could be, she was still just a twenty-year-old girl.

"_Please_," Ginny begged, throwing her pride to the winds.

Draco stared at her for a moment and then gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine. I'll stay. It's going to be morning soon anyway."

Ginny ignored his grumbling and instead bestowed him with a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Draco muttered, shrugging off the hand that was still gripping his arm. "I just don't want the Dark Lord to have any more excuses to punish me because you're looking a bit tired or something."

Ginny almost laughed, but that would probably only rile him up further, so she just nodded to show she understood and then headed over to the bed. She clambered in under the covers and once again pulled them right up to her chin. Draco extinguished the candles, sending the room into darkness. She didn't hear him after that.

After a while, Ginny began to panic, wondering if he had just lied and said he would stay so that she would stop pestering him. Her breathing quickened, coming dangerously close to hyperventilating.

"Draco?" she whispered wildly to the darkness. "Are you still there?"

"Relax," came the calm reply, and she could almost imagine him rolling his eyes. "I'm not going to leave you."

Ginny let out a deep breath, her eyes closing as she relaxed back against the pillows. For the second time that night she felt enveloped by the reassuring knowledge that she was safe.

There was no need to fear now. She was with him.


	10. Suspicion

**Suspicion**

Lara let out a shuddering gasp, tears slipping down her cheeks as she clutched her arms around her aching body. Her knees were stinging from the impact of being crippled to the ground, but that was nothing to the pain that had forced her into the humbled position in the first place.

A harsh laugh echoed around the room, the malice held within the raspy chuckles gliding up and down her spine like the cool touch of a knife. Her eyes lifted, meeting the hooded obsidian staring back at her from a face ravaged of its once infamous beauty. It was the face of a madwoman, Bellatrix Lestrange's face, and in her dark eyes one could see the true form of insanity.

Bellatrix lowered her wand. She was panting, her eyes glowing with excitement, as if inflicting pain and watching another suffer was somehow erotically stimulating to her. Knowing Bellatrix, it probably was. It was obvious that the woman could barely contain the greedy delight she felt in being able to torture Lara.

Lara could see it, _feel_ it all. The loathing that Bellatrix felt for her ran so deep that it would have painted the skies black with its dark intensity. The woman hated her, wanted nothing more than to peel her skin off with just her fingernails and then rip out Lara's organs and bones one piece at a time. It was amazing that Bellatrix had not already attempted to kill her, but Lara knew that however insane Bellatrix might be, the woman was not stupid. Bellatrix would never openly defy the Dark Lord, but the itch to kill was still there. That itch was always there.

It was jealousy that had done it. Bellatrix was jealous of Lara because for years it had been she, Bellatrix Lestrange, who had served as Voldemort's right-hand woman. There was no one more important to the Dark Lord than her – save her nephew – and Voldemort had given her the honour of training Draco. He had trusted her with all his most important tasks and secrets, and had given her the honour of being his personal torturer for those servants who had displeased him. He had _needed_ her, but then Lara had come along with all her special powers and Bellatrix had found herself thrust to the side. No more did the Dark Lord call upon her, no more did he confide in her. She had become second best, almost unnecessary.

Bellatrix raised her wand to fire another curse, her expression oozing with years of pent up hate. Lara knew she would be lucky to make it out of this unscathed.

"That's enough, Bella," Voldemort said, stepping out from the shadows. "Her mind is far too precious for you to damage."

Bellatrix lowered her wand obediently, though her eyes continued to glare at Lara with sadistic promises of pain.

Voldemort moved forwards and stopped before the brunette kneeling on the ground. "You have failed me, Lara."

It was a speech that Lara had heard him give many times to his Death Eaters when they had displeased him. This was the first time it had been directed at her.

She had always thought herself as clever – far cleverer than him. It had been so easy to gain his favour, so easy to remain confident even under the face of his suspicions and paranoia. She had skirted and deferred his displeasure, using her powers to protect her own thoughts and plans, but she had not been prepared for this. She had never thought that she could actually fail.

"I am sorry, my lord," Lara said meekly. "It will not happen again."

There was nothing else she could say. She could already sense that he would not listen to her explanations.

"Being sorry does not change the fact that you almost caused Potter and the girl to be taken by Dissenters!" Bellatrix spat, her hooded eyes wild with hate. "Everything could have been lost because _you_ failed to do your job!"

"Bella is right," Voldemort said, smiling rather nastily. "Your failure to recognise what was going to happen could have been catastrophic to our plans. To lose Potter is one thing, but to lose the girl is unforgivable. She holds the child that will give me the greatest power the world has ever seen. Because of you, I almost lost that."

Lara's eyes flashed. "What would you have me do? I told you it was dangerous to ask me to follow too many things at once. I can't sense everything; I'm not that powerful."

"Then what use are you?"

Her heart leapt in her chest as she felt the equilibrium of her own life begin to destabilise. Things had suddenly become desperate.

She stood up from her knees, head held high. "Was I not the one who told you who Ginevra was and what her powers had the potential to do? Did I not tell you that you had simply to force Ginevra to offer herself to Draco to ensure their having a child together? Was I not the one who helped you find the Order's base in the first place so that you could even get Potter and Ginevra to bring them here?"

Voldemort considered her through his crimson eyes. His expression was unreadable, even for her. She felt a moment of panic as the feeling of impending death became stronger, but then his lips curved ever so slightly into a smile.

"Indeed, you were."

Immediately, Lara felt the threat lift as the equilibrium surrounding her life fell back into place.

Voldemort's eyes flicked to Bellatrix. "I am sorry, my dear, it seems that you will not get to kill our friend Lara today, after all."

Bellatrix's disappointment could not have been more obvious.

"That being said," Voldemort continued, turning his attention back to the brunette. "Another mistake like this, Lara, and I will have no further use for you. I'm sure you don't need your little powers to figure out what will happen then."

"I understand."

"Good."

His lips curved into a chilling smile, and then he strolled out of the room, Bellatrix trailing behind him like a fawning dog shadowing her master's footsteps. Lara waited until the door had shut behind them before allowing a small frown to pass across her lips. She needed to think, and she needed to think fast. Tomorrow she would be going to the manor with the Dark Lord, and she knew that he was sure to discover through Draco that there was a traitor in his ranks and would wonder why she had not told him of this fact earlier.

Her eyes stared down at the dark mark burned onto her forearm. It was the brand of a Death Eater, the sign that proclaimed her allegiance to Voldemort, as well as his ownership over her body. Only those of the inner circle actually received the mark, the ones who had proved that they were worthy enough to be considered his most _trusted_ servants.

Lara's lips curled into a twisted smile. She allowed her sleeve to cover the tattoo on her arm and then moved towards the bed. The candle flickered beside her, spluttering and crackling as it desperately tried to cling to life. One, soft breath extinguished the flame.

And then there was darkness.

**OOOO**

Draco opened his eyes, shaking off the last shreds of sleep. He sat up, automatically stretching to ease the stiffness out of his neck and shoulders. The sun was streaming in through the closed curtains, giving enough light for him to see the young woman still sleeping soundly in the bed, her long, red hair surrounding her face like a burning halo.

He stood up from the couch and walked over to the bed. Ginny made a sleepy noise and rolled over towards him, a few strands of hair slipping to caress her face. There was something absurdly youthful about her appearance in that moment, something so open and innocent. She looked peaceful, yet, at the same time, he had never seen her look so vulnerable. It made him feel strange.

Tearing his eyes away from the sleeping redhead, he frowned and ran an agitated hand through his hair. What was he even doing here? He was the most feared and ruthless Death Eater in all of Voldemort's army, and yet he had willingly slept on the couch to play watchdog for a silly girl so that she wouldn't be frightened of bogeymen. He had even kept his promise to stay with her the whole night. It was ridiculous.

Ginny shifted again in the bed. He turned to see her eyes slowly open, revealing the hidden brown beneath the closed lids. For a moment they just stared at each other, and then a slow smile began to spread across her features.

"You stayed," she said softly.

She looked so pleased, so warm and affectionate in that moment. It wasn't right. It wasn't normal.

Something snapped inside him.

"Don't get carried away with yourself, Ginevra," he spat harshly. "I only stayed to stop your whingeing so that I could actually get some sleep. I couldn't care less about your silly fears of being alone."

Ginny's smile faltered. Her eyes flashed with sudden frustration. "Why do you always have to be this way?" she demanded, slamming her hand down on the blankets.

Draco frowned at her outburst. What was she going on about now?

"My gosh, you don't even realise that you do it, do you?"

"Do what?"

"What you're doing right now!" she exclaimed heatedly. "As soon as I feel like I'm making any progress with you, you suddenly turn into this heartless bastard and try to make me hate you again! Why can't you just be normal for once? Why can't you just drop the bastard act and let me see _you_?"

Draco's eyes hardened until they were like two chips of ice. "This isn't an act, Ginevra. This is who I am. I'm not secretly hiding a soft side under an icy exterior, or whatever nonsense it is that your romantic little brain has come up with. I _am_ cruel, I _am_ heartless, and you're right, I _am_ a bastard."

Ginny shook her head. "But you're not. I _know_ there's more to you than this."

He let out a harsh laugh. "Oh? Like what? Do enlighten me on this secret side of myself that only you seem to be able to see."

"You mock me now, but you must feel it. You _must_ feel the change." She slid off the bed and walked towards him, her eyes staring searchingly up into his. "You can't honestly tell me that you stayed with me last night simply because you wanted me to stop pestering you."

"Can't I?" A sneer twisted his features. "Don't flatter yourself, Ginevra. I meant what I said."

"I don't believe you."

"That's because you want to delude yourself into thinking that I'm something that I'm not."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?"

Ginny averted her face, unable to meet his eyes when they were staring so piercingly into her own. Draco closed the distance between them and reached out to take her chin lightly in his hand. He guided her face back up towards his so that she had no choice but to look at him.

"You wish to believe that I'm nice deep down so that it doesn't seem so wrong for you to want me," he answered for her, his voice lowering to the caressing tones of velvet. "But you _do_ want me, Ginevra, and we both know that it has nothing to do with my being secretly good."

Her eyes widened, whether out of surprise that he had read her thoughts so easily, or from the simple fact that he had finally acknowledged her desire for him. She licked her lips nervously, unsure now what to say or do. Draco had to repress a smile. She really was so very easy to read.

Letting his fingers trail slowly down her neck, he leaned in close and had the distinct satisfaction of hearing her breath hitch at his sudden proximity. His eyes stared deep into hers, his hand travelling lower, until he could feel the flutter of her heart under his fingertips.

"Don't," she whispered, her eyes torn between desire and panic.

Draco raised a mocking eyebrow at her plea and slipped his hand underneath the silk of her nightdress to tease her swollen breast. "_Don't_ what?" he taunted, even though his own body was racing with excitement at what he was doing.

She gasped, her breath quickening at his touch. "Don't do this."

He ignored her feeble protest and leaned in to place an open-mouthed kiss on her neck, revelling in the sweet taste of her skin.

"I thought this is what you wanted?" he whispered huskily, now trailing his lips up to her ear.

"I—" She swallowed, hard. "Not like this."

"Don't be coy," he murmured, bringing his face back around so that he could stare into her eyes. "If you really wanted me to stop, you would have pushed me away by now, but you don't want me to stop, do you, Ginevra?"

Crimson stained her cheeks.

He smiled at that, if a little cruelly, and leaned in so that his lips were hovering just inches from her own. There he paused, long enough to take satisfaction in the shaky breath that escaped her lips, and see the way her eyelashes fluttered with anticipation before lowering to veil the brown of her eyes.

Another smile, and then he closed the small gap between them.

Her lips were just as soft as he had remembered them, completely yielding to his own. He deepened the kiss, his hand moving up from her breast to tangle in her hair, and then he had her backed up against the wall, control fast slipping as the old desire ignited inside him.

Everything was fire: everything throbbing with an overwhelming, intoxicating heat. He gripped her hip with his free hand, fingers digging into her skin, his mouth moving with hers in a way that would have made any chaste-minded person blush. She was so warm, so soft. He had to immerse himself in her, but then a low moan escaped her lips, snapping him back to his senses, and he was suddenly reminded of why he had kissed her in the first place.

Draco abruptly pulled back, triumph and something far more malicious glinting in his eyes.

"Well," he observed, noting the way the strap of her nightdress had slipped down to reveal a bit more of her breast than was decent, as well as the flush blossoming on her cheeks. "I think that just answered my question."

Ginny's eyes flashed as she suddenly realised what he had done. "You're sick," she said in disgust, dragging her strap back up to cover herself, her cheeks now burning with a mixture of shame and anger.

Silver danced with wicked humour. "At least you're finally starting to get it into that pretty head of yours that I'm not your golden hero."

"Is that why you did this?" she demanded angrily. "To prove your point?"

Draco simply raised an eyebrow at her, as if to ask how she could have expected anything less from him. Her chin lifted, and then there was a loud slap as her hand collided with his cheek.

"How dare you!" she spat, breathing heavily now. "You—you _bastard_!"

His hand instinctively rose to touch his stinging cheek. For a moment he looked like he was going to lash out at her for daring to hit him, but then he just started to laugh. Ginny glared at him, face red with anger, but this only succeeded in making him laugh even more. It was too precious seeing her so outraged at his having proved that he was nothing more than the bastard she refused to believe he was. The girl really was so naïve.

And yet, as he stared into her eyes, seeing the hurt reflected in those brown irises, he felt just the smallest prickle of guilt. It had been a malicious action on his part, a way to punish her for even daring to suggest that he was not the man that he professed himself to be. Violence and cruel words would not have been enough to let the lesson sink in. He had needed to truly hurt her, to humiliate her in such a way as to make her loathe him entirely.

But looking into her eyes now, the laughter dying on his lips, he couldn't help but wonder if he had taken things too far. There was no denying that he didn't find the irony of her situation amusing, nor could he say that he did not glory in her humiliation. It was cruel of him, perhaps, but then that was the point, wasn't it?

Wasn't it?

Ginny continued to glower at him, still with that same guilt-inspiring quality to her eyes. Draco suddenly realised where he had seen that expression before. It was the same look his mother gave when she was disappointed with him; the same that had always made him feel like he was breaking her heart. Seeing it in Ginny's eyes made the expression take on a whole new meaning.

He folded his arms, feeling suddenly defensive. "What?" he snapped. "You know what I am, so don't look at me like I've somehow crushed your heart. You were the one who fooled yourself and let me take advantage of you."

She shook her head, disbelief and frustration etched into her face.

"You just don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"Forget it," she muttered. "I can see that I'm wasting my time."

She made to leave, but his hand shot out and latched around her wrist, pulling her to an abrupt halt.

"Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you, Ginevra. We're not finished here."

"Let me go!" she spat, trying to wrench her wrist free.

He was still struggling to restrain her when the door opened and Lara walked into the room.

"Am I interrupting something?" Lara asked in an amused voice, her eyes quick to take in their dishevelled appearances, as well as the hand still closed tight around Ginny's wrist.

"Lara," Draco exclaimed, quickly releasing Ginny's wrist. "I wasn't expecting you so early."

"Clearly."

He frowned. "Where's the Dark Lord? I thought he was supposed to be coming with you."

"He'll be here later. I have some things I want to discuss with you first. _Alone_," she added, giving a pointed glance at Ginny.

Ginny didn't need telling twice and stalked out of the room, making a point to slam the door shut behind her.

"She seems rather angry," Lara observed. "What did you do?"

"That's none of your business."

"Oh?" Lara stared at him for a moment, and then her lips curved into a knowing smile. "I see."

Draco scowled. It was impossible to keep Lara out of his head, and not for lack of trying. No amount of skill at Occluding could stop her powers from slipping under his barriers to sense what he was feeling. It was one of the things he hated most about her. He liked his privacy, thank you very much, and did not appreciate the way she ignored this fact.

"What do you want, Lara?" he asked warily.

"I need you to do something for me."

"What?"

"Don't tell the Dark Lord about the traitor in the inner circle."

A crease formed on his brow. "Why not?"

"Because the Dark Lord isn't feeling very charitable towards me right now, and I don't think he would appreciate the fact that I didn't tell him of this traitor earlier."

"And why didn't you tell him of the traitor earlier? Isn't that your job, Lara? To sense all threats to the Dark Lord's plans and inform him of them."

"I didn't know about the traitor until you told me. I must have missed it when the betrayal first happened."

"You seem to be missing a lot of things lately."

"It's not that easy, alright?" Lara exclaimed irritably. "Do you have any idea how many Death Eaters want the Dark Lord dead so that they can take his place? They all hate him, Draco – even you. Trying to single out one person amongst that is like trying to find a stone in muddy water. You can't see it just by glancing at the surface. You have to search deep, and with everything else going on, I haven't been able to focus enough to do that."

"Well, surely you must be able to find out who the traitor is now?"

Lara shook her head. "My powers work based on feelings. I can't just close my eyes and get a picture of the traitor. I have to feel their identity, and that takes time – time I won't have if you tell the Dark Lord that I failed to recognise a traitor in his ranks."

He stared at her suspiciously. "Why should I believe you? Because of your habit of '_missing things'_, Ginevra and Potter were almost taken last night. For all I know, _you_ could be the traitor and are now just trying to protect yourself by asking for my silence."

She laughed. "Don't be absurd, Draco."

"Absurd? I'll tell you what's absurd. Last night two Dissenters, who had been planning their mission for weeks, managed to not only infiltrate the manor, but also very nearly succeeded in kidnapping _my_ prisoners from right under my nose. It's by mere chance that Ginevra and Potter are still here." His eyes narrowed coldly. "Now you tell me how you, with all of your powers, failed to notice that something as major as this was coming."

"Believe me, I've been asking myself that same question, and I wish I could give a better explanation as to why I didn't, but I can't. I just didn't sense it. I'm human, Draco. I make mistakes."

"You expect me to believe that after you've just been telling me not to tell the Dark Lord that he has a traitor in his ranks?"

"I know it looks suspicious, but you just have to trust me with this."

Draco leaned forward, looking her straight in the eye. "Give me one good reason why I should do this for you."

Lara met his gaze unflinchingly. "When have I ever led you wrong before? Without me, you would be dead right now, and you know it." Her eyes took on a more earnest expression. "I _need_ you to do this for me, Draco. I saved your life, the least you can do is return the favour."

Draco was torn. A part of him wanted to believe that she was telling the truth, but he couldn't ignore that niggling feeling which cautioned against trusting her too much. It was hard to trust a woman whose mind was completely impenetrable to all forms of Legilimency, and he didn't need to have sensing powers to know that there was far more to her than she let on.

He could still remember the day she had first come to them. He had been nineteen then, still fresh in his role as battle strategist for the Dark Lord, and had just been going to show his master a plan for their next attack. The door had opened before he could knock, and both Lara and Voldemort had exited the room. The Dark Lord hadn't paid any attention to him at first, too pleased with his newly acquired servant, but Lara had seen him. Her eyes had locked on him as soon as she had passed through the door, a knowing look creeping into the blue, as if _he_ had been the one that she was looking for all along.

In that moment, as he had stared into those electric-blue eyes, Draco had known that this was a woman who just _knew_ things. If Mona Lisa could claim to hold the secrets of the world in her smile, it was Lara who held the secrets of the world in her eyes. She knew too much and revealed too little, and in that she was dangerous.

But she had helped him – that he could not deny. She had warned him of danger countless times, and had just recently told him of the Dark Lord's change of feeling towards him in order to protect him from behaving too rashly and incurring his master's wrath. Then, too, there was the fact that she had become a sort of _friend_ to him over the years, though he was not quite sure how that had happened . . .

And now here she was asking him to lie for her to the Dark Lord so that she could be protected. She wanted him to pretend that there was no traitor because she had failed to notice there was one – because she had already slipped up and was now in danger of losing her life as a consequence.

Lara closed her fingers over his. "Trust me, Draco."

He stared into her eyes, eyes that still held too many secrets for his comfort. Slowly, he let out a breath. "This had better be worth it, Lara".

A smile pulled at her lips. "It is."

**OOOO**

Ginny was sitting on the bed in her old room when Narcissa found her later that day. If it weren't for the telling red rimming the younger woman's eyes, one would never have known that she had been upset. She seemed perfectly calm, if a little listless.

"You've been crying," Narcissa observed. "What's wrong?"

Ginny averted her face. "What do you want?"

"The Dark Lord will be arriving shortly. He wants to speak to all of us, including you. We'll be greeting him in the parlour."

"Fine," Ginny sighed, standing up to walk towards the door.

Narcissa placed a hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong, Ginevra?"

"Nothing," Ginny lied. "Everything is perfectly fine."

She made to leave again.

"Was it my son?"

Ginny froze.

A sigh escaped the blonde. "Tell me."

Ginny closed her eyes, holding back the tears that threatened to escape. She didn't want to think about it anymore, not that the memories had ever really left her. She could not forget the way he had kissed her, the way he had touched her, but that was nothing to the hurt she felt in knowing that he had only done it so that he could prove his point.

She had thought that last night they had somehow breached the boundary of prisoner and captor, closing the gulf between them. He had held her so protectively in his arms, had soothed her fears so easily, and he had stayed for her. It was more than what she could have ever expected from him, and she, in her foolishness, had thought that it meant something.

But he had thrown it all back in her face. He had mocked her, humiliated her, had cruelly used her own feelings for him against her. It was only natural to feel angry at his vindictiveness, but she had never known that it would cause such a deep pain inside her, as if her heart was somehow being squeezed with invisible fingers that only tightened the more she protested that it was too much for her to bear.

Arms suddenly closed around her. For the second time in her life, Ginny found herself being hugged by Narcissa Malfoy.

"I'm sorry," Narcissa murmured. "I'm sorry that he hurt you."

Tears stung at Ginny's eyes. She buried her face into the older woman's shoulder, wishing more than ever that she could just escape from this place and the man who had made her life so difficult. She hated him, hated him with every fibre of her being, but she also couldn't deny that there was a part of her that longed for him. It wasn't until today that she realised just how deep that attraction went.

Perhaps that was why it hurt so much. He had wanted to prove a point, but in the end he had only proven hers. There was no deceit in his kiss, no lie in his touch. No one could fake something like that, not even him. It had all been an act of retaliation, a defence mechanism to keep her out, and now she knew that he would never change. He would just keep on lashing out at her, and she would remain helpless to his power and cruelty, for nothing, not even the pain he made her feel, could stop the sick fascination she felt for him.

Narcissa pulled Ginny closer, surrounding her in a cocoon of motherly protection and warmth. She didn't speak, but then there really was no need. Her actions said all that was needed. No one knew more than Narcissa how cruel Draco could be to those who cared for him. It was enough just to show that she understood.

Ginny wasn't sure how long they stood like that, but after some time, Narcissa gently pulled away.

"We should go. The Dark Lord will be here by now."

Ginny nodded, quickly wiping the tears off her cheeks, and followed Narcissa out of the room. They walked down the corridors and then entered the parlour together. As expected, Voldemort and Lara were already there.

Voldemort broke off mid-conversation and turned to look at them. "Ah," he said smoothly, "so glad you could finally join us."

Narcissa said something in reply, but Ginny wasn't listening. She was staring at Draco, frustration and longing clawing at her chest. It wasn't fair that he should be so detached while she was forced to suffer like this. It wasn't fair that he was allowed to be so achingly beautiful when his heart was so ugly. It just wasn't fair . . .

His eyes locked on hers. She felt like someone had punctured a hole in her lungs. The air seemed to vanish inside her, the pain in her chest growing. She wanted to yell at him, scream at him, but her mouth remained shut. She could only stare, caught by the power of those cold grey eyes.

Draco turned his face back to his master, but Ginny continued to watch him long afterwards. She barely heard them discussing what they were going to do about the Dissenters and whether it would be safe to keep her and Harry still at the manor. She didn't care when Voldemort started probing her stomach, checking to make sure that the baby was still healthy and unharmed from last night's adventures. She was completely lost to her own thoughts.

"I believe that is all we needed to discuss?" Lara said, giving a questioning glance at her master.

"Yes, though there is something that has been bothering me." Voldemort's eyes narrowed on Draco. "How did the Dissenters know that both Potter and Ginevra were at the manor?"

"I don't know, my lord," Draco responded smoothly, causing Ginny's eyes to snap up in surprise. "I'm afraid that they made it impossible for me to spare either of them so that we could get any information."

He'd lied. Why had he lied?

"Hrm," Voldemort mused, twisting his lips in thought as he stared into Draco's grey eyes. "That's funny. Someone here doesn't agree with you."

Ginny saw the way Draco paled ever so slightly, saw the way Lara's eyes widened in open alarm. Then Voldemort was smiling at her – smiling in a way that made goosebumps shiver up and down her arms.

"Come here, Ginevra," he ordered gently.

Ginny obediently walked forward. There was nothing else that she could do.

Voldemort took her chin in his hands and tilted her face up towards his. She felt his crimson eyes searching her own, felt the faint prickles of his presence touching at her mind. He was using Legilimency on her. With that realisation came the sudden urge to hide whatever it was that he was looking for.

Ginny had never learnt Occlumency before, but somehow she just knew what to do. She pushed all thoughts of the Dissenters to the back of her mind, covering them with thoughts of her family, and then set up a wall of emotion that allowed Voldemort to see only her fear and confusion. He tried to push through her barriers, sliding up along the wall she had created to search for any cracks or weak points, but there was nothing for him to find.

Voldemort left her mind, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. "I see you've learnt to block your thoughts. No matter, I saw enough to know that young Malfoy was lying to me."

He thrust her away from him, sending her straight into Lara's arms – who immediately caught and steadied her – and then turned to the impassive blond.

"Well, Draco, it seems that there's something you're not wanting to tell me about the Dissenters. Now why would that be?"

Draco's jaw clenched.

Voldemort moved closer, calmly bringing out his wand from his robe. "Come now, Draco. You don't want to displease your lord."

The blond looked past his master, past Ginny's bewildered gaze, and met Lara's eyes. Ginny could feel Lara tense behind her. There was a moment where the two Death Eaters just stared at each other, as if having some kind of telepathic exchange, and then Draco turned his eyes back to his master. He gracefully knelt down on the ground and lowered his head into a subdued bow.

"Forgive me, my lord. You are right, I did lie, but it was only because I failed to get any information out of the Dissenter that I had caught." He raised his face, his expression one of complete contrition. "I was ashamed, my lord, and in my weakness I lied, hoping that you would not learn of my failure."

"Is that so?"

Draco nodded. Ginny was amazed at how genuine he appeared to be. If she didn't already know the truth, she herself would have been fooled by the sincerity he seemed to surround himself with.

Voldemort's lips curled into a nasty smile. "A pity."

Everyone knew what was coming next, but that didn't stop Ginny from flinching when she heard the sharp gasp that escaped the blond's lips as he was struck by the Cruciatus Curse. She could see him struggling to contain himself, to not show his pain, but all too soon beads of sweat were gathering on his brow, and his face began to twitch in a horrible, sickening way.

It was unbearable to watch. She couldn't stand it. She couldn't stand seeing him like this.

Her eyes darted to Narcissa, but the woman seemed to have become like stone. Lara was still tense behind her, but she too seemed to have been struck frozen and made no effort to stop the sickening torture going on before them. Ginny looked back at the man on the floor, watching the strength slowly sap away from his body. He was leaning forward now, gasping and groaning openly in his pain. Voldemort seemed irritated that Draco had not screamed yet and intensified the curse.

Ginny couldn't take it anymore. Her eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out the torture going on before her, but that did nothing to block out his groans of agony. Tears slipped down her cheeks, her heart aching in her chest. It had to stop.

It had to stop now.

Ginny stepped forward. "Stop it! Please, just stop it!"

Draco's head snapped up at the sound of her voice. He stared at her incredulously, confusion and anger flashing in his eyes.

"Don't interfere, Ginevra," Lara said quickly, reaching out to pull her back.

"No, Lara," Voldemort interposed, red eyes gleaming unpleasantly. "I think our dear Ginevra is upset that I'm punishing young Malfoy here. By all means, child, go on."

Ginny licked her lips nervously. She hadn't meant to call out. It had just happened. She hadn't even known what she had been doing. All she had known was that she couldn't handle just standing there and watching him suffer like that.

"Don't be shy," Voldemort taunted. "I'm very interested to see what you have to say."

"I . . ."

"Yes?" he prompted.

She swallowed, her eyes falling back to Draco. He was glaring openly at her now. It was obvious that he wanted nothing more than to yell at her, but he didn't dare say anything with Voldemort right there.

"I just," she began again, hesitant now.

What was she supposed to say? She couldn't very well tell the Dark Lord that she wanted him to stop because she fancied her captor and didn't like to see Draco hurt, not to mention the fact that she knew it was an unjust punishment that he was receiving. She didn't understand why Draco had lied to his master about the Dissenters, but she did know that it was not his fault that he was being cursed now.

Lara caught her gaze and very slowly shook her head.

Ginny wasn't quite sure what Lara had meant by that, but she understood that telling the full truth was out of the question.

She turned her eyes back to the waxy-faced man before her. "I just . . . don't like watching people being tortured."

Voldemort's eyebrow – or what was left of it – lifted slightly. "You just don't like seeing people tortured?" he repeated, seeming to find this amusing. "How quaint."

Ginny felt her cheeks warm. She knew she would be blushing.

He considered her for a moment through his red eyes, a slight smile curling his lips. Then he turned to Draco, who was still kneeling on the floor.

"You're in luck, young Malfoy. It seems that your little prisoner is offended by my methods. She's even crying for you."

Ginny wiped away the traitor tears on her cheeks. Voldemort just laughed.

"Oh, don't be ashamed, my dear. It does your Gryffindor heart great justice. You people always were too noble for your own good."

Ginny didn't know what to say to that and so said nothing.

Voldemort turned back to Draco, all smiles vanishing as his eyes took on their nightmare gleam. "I have shown you mercy tonight. Do _not_ disappoint me again."

"Yes, my lord," Draco gritted out with forced respect.

Voldemort glanced at Lara. "Finish up here. I'm heading back to headquarters."

Lara bowed dutifully to show that she understood.

Ginny was pleased when Voldemort finally left the room, though it was a while before anyone spoke. She knew that they, just like her, were afraid he would somehow know if they said anything potentially treacherous while he was still on the premises.

Draco slowly got to his feet, wincing slightly from the lingering effects of the curse. Lara was immediately beside him.

"Are you all right?"

He gave a wry smile. "I'll live."

"I'm sorry, Draco. I didn't realise that this would happen," Lara said, looking truly remorseful. "I should have realised that he would be able to see the truth in Ginevra's mind."

"You should have, of course, but it makes no difference. He never discovered the full truth."

"You're right." Lara smiled at Ginny. "Thank you for doing that for us, Ginevra."

"What I want to know," Narcissa interposed, speaking for the first time since her son had been cursed, "is why Draco had to lie in the first place."

Draco and Lara exchanged glances.

"That was my fault," Lara confessed. "Draco was only trying to protect me."

Ginny felt something hot surge through her blood. Was it jealousy? Jealousy of Lara?

She didn't pay much attention to the rest of the conversation, too absorbed in her own thoughts, and so didn't realise when Draco moved towards her.

"Why did you interfere?"

Ginny jumped, her eyes wildly searching for the source of his voice, and almost jumped again when she realised that he was standing right next to her.

"I—what?"

His eyes narrowed. "You heard me. Why did you tell the Dark Lord to stop?"

She flushed. "You heard my answer. I just don't like seeing people tortured."

And it was true. She really didn't, though she was not delusional enough to not realise that there was far more to it than that.

Apparently, he wasn't as well.

"Never do that again, Ginevra," he ordered in a low, threatening voice. "Do you hear me? _Never do that again_."

"I'm sorry. I just didn't think."

"Of course you didn't. You never think. That's your problem. You're too impulsive for your own good, and one of these days that impulsiveness is going to get you killed – that is if you don't kill us both with your stupidity before then. Do you have any idea what would have happened if the Dark Lord had realised why you really called out like that?"

Her eyes flashed with embarrassment and hurt, but there was anger too.

"What difference does it make?" she retorted. "Whether I'm killed now or three weeks later, I'm already dead, or have you forgotten about why I'm really here?"

Draco's expression changed so quickly that she wasn't sure it had happened at all, but she was almost certain that she had seen a flicker of distress pass over his face.

"Three weeks?"

"Maybe four. I don't know." She shrugged. "The baby is growing a lot faster than expected."

His eyes fell to her stomach. He absently ran a hand over the bump, an unreadable expression on his face. "It's really going to happen, then," he murmured, more to himself.

Ginny wished he wouldn't touch her like that. She had almost forgotten everything that had occurred between them that morning in the excitement of what had happened, but everything was rushing back to her now.

She took a step back from him, breaking the contact. "Don't touch me."

Draco's eyes snapped back up to hers, a different kind of unreadable expression coming to his face. They stared at each other, both knowing that there was still so much that had been left unsaid between them. Then he simply turned and walked away.

Ginny let out a breath as she stared at his retreating form. He did not look back.


	11. The Pawn Makes Her Move

**The Pawn Makes Her Move**

Ginny stared absently at the ceiling. Once again she had found herself lying on the bed, dress pulled up while Lara scanned her heavily pregnant belly. She tried to ignore the ticklish feeling of the magical scanner and cast her eyes back at the brunette. Like the last time, Lara was not in the mood to talk. Ginny couldn't help but note the trouble shadowing the older woman's eyes. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who hadn't been able to sleep over the past week.

"Have you discovered the traitor yet?" Ginny asked, wondering if this was the cause of the witch's disquiet.

Lara gave an involuntary twitch. "Not yet."

"Oh."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Ginny shifted on the bed and stared back at the ceiling. She had not forgotten that it was Lara who had wanted Draco to lie about the traitor, but it would not do to dwell on that. It would not do to dwell on anything that had happened that day.

Lara finally pulled the sensor away and started wiping the sticky potion off Ginny's belly. "You're doing well, Ginevra," she said with a smile, if a little forced. "The child is progressing exactly as it should. I'd say you have about a week left before the baby will be due. Perhaps a week and a half if you're lucky."

Something cold and very hollow settled in Ginny's stomach. The way Lara had said the words sounded far too much like a death sentence for her comfort, which, when she thought about it, they indeed were. There was no question of her not being killed once the child was born, but it had always seemed like some faraway thing, almost a dream that could never become real.

"A week?" Ginny repeated, her voice hushed as if saying it louder would somehow make the words more concrete.

Lara said nothing and simply began to pack away her equipment. Ginny pushed herself into a sitting position and stared at the brunette. It was obvious that Lara didn't want to talk about it, obvious that she was ignoring the redhead in the hopes that her silence would settle the matter. But Ginny was not one to be ignored, not when her own feelings had been so unsettled.

"You've sensed it, haven't you?" Ginny asked in a surprisingly calm voice. "You've sensed what will happen once the child is born."

Lara closed her eyes, an infinitesimal sigh escaping her lips. "Yes," she admitted quietly, "I've sensed it."

"And?"

The black lashes lifted, vivid blue meeting Ginny's brown irises with no trace of sympathy or, indeed, any feeling at all.

"You die, Ginevra."

And that was it. In three simple words, Ginny's future had been decided. There was no uncertainty in Lara's voice, no murkiness to give the redhead even the slightest fragment of hope. This was the cold truth. Her baby would be born and then she would die.

Death seemed to smile at her then, as if it could already feel the warmth of her body fading into its cold embrace. Not long now, it seemed to say, but Ginny refused to accept it. This just couldn't be all that her life would amount to.

"I don't believe you," Ginny said, shaking her head.

Lara gave her a pitying look. "No one ever does want to accept their own fate, but all things must come to an end at some point. You cannot escape your destiny, Ginevra."

"You're wrong."

"Am I now?"

Ginny gritted her teeth. "You talk about fate and destiny as if it's something irrefutable, but you forget that we are the ones who make our own choices. Fate may deal the cards, but I'm still the one who plays them."

"You're right," Lara agreed, "you do play your own cards." She leaned forward and looked Ginny squarely in the eyes. "But what happens when your opponent has the winning hand?"

Ginny faltered at that, but then the answer she had so desperately been searching for finally manifested itself.

"You cheat," Ginny said softly, more to herself than the woman in front of her.

Lara's eyes widened a fraction. "I see. And how do you plan to do that?"

Ginny offered no answer to this. She did not trust Lara. The brunette may have united with Draco against Voldemort in regards to the traitor working with the Dissenters, but who knew the real reason for that? Ginny certainly didn't. Lara was still just as mysterious as she had been when they had first met. It was too risky to confide in her now.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Ginevra," Lara said seriously. "You're mistaken if you think you can overset the Dark Lord's plans. He will kill you once he has your child in his grasp, no matter what you do."

"Then I guess I have nothing to lose, don't I?"

Lara's eyes flashed with an unreadable emotion. "Foolish girl. Why can't you just accept your fate?"

"Because that would mean giving up, and I've come too far to simply let him win now."

"You do realise that I will have to tell the Dark Lord what you're planning, and that he will take measures to ensure you don't obstruct his plans."

"I know."

It was a risk Ginny would have to take, but anything was worth the risk now. Hearing that the baby would be born in a week had given her a new drive, a new desire to break free. She had been lost in the shades of grey, confused and conflicted by twisted feelings of love and hate, but now there were new shades colouring her view, shades that made her realise just how stupid she had been behaving.

While she had been struggling to make sense of her feelings for her captor – the same man who had murdered her brother and caused her so much pain – there were people that she loved dying. People, long dead, crying from the dusts of the earth for her to get back on her feet and keep fighting for the cause they had given their lives to. It was her child that the Dark Lord wanted, what everyone wanted, and she, in all her selfishness, was practically handing it to Voldemort on a silver platter. She was handing him victory, and it was this realisation that made her want to fight back, to beat him at his own game. But she knew she would need help, and it was not Lara who could help her, though having the brunette as her enemy would make things difficult.

"Don't think I don't know that you're planning something, Ginevra," Lara said, interrupting her thoughts. "I can sense it all ready."

"No one wants to accept their fate," Ginny responded. "You said that yourself, so why should I accept mine? I'll make my own fate if I have to."

Lara laughed, much to Ginny's surprise.

"You're not the first person to tell me that people make their own fates," the brunette explained, amusement quivering in her voice. "He didn't want to accept his fate either, and for a while I almost thought that he could change the path that destiny had decreed for him."

"What happened?" Ginny asked, curious even with all her frustration and hopelessness.

"In his stubbornness to prove me wrong, he did exactly what Fate had decided for him. You see, Ginevra, you're right in saying that you can play your cards however you like, but the outcome still remains the same. Fate always wins in the end."

Ginny didn't miss the bitterness lacing Lara's voice, and she wondered if there was more to the story than the brunette was letting on. Had Lara perhaps cared for this man who had tried to change his fate?

"Who was he?"

"The man?" Lara gave a wry smile. "I believe you know him well yourself. He is your captor, after all."

"Draco? You're talking about Draco?"

Lara simply gave one of her enigmatic smiles and then turned and left the room. Ginny stared at the closed door, confused and conflicted all over again. What had Draco been trying to change about his fate, and why did Lara tell her about that anyway? Did the brunette want to scare her off from trying to ruin Voldemort's plans because of how futile it was? Or was she trying to hint at something else?

It was impossible to tell, just as it was impossible to tell where Lara stood. Ginny knew that if Lara had really wanted to stop her from rebelling against Voldemort's plans, the brunette could very easily do it herself. But Lara had not stopped her. She had only warned her.

Why?

Ginny sighed. She knew that she could think about this question all day and be no closer to an answer. Lara was determined to remain a mystery, and Draco – he was best left forgotten, even if the thought of never seeing him again did make her heart ache.

In a way it felt like everything had been building up to this moment. Draco had pushed her to the edge, stripped away all the armour of hate that had protected her heart from him, but now she had to be strong again. She had to stop clinging to those moments of kindness he had occasionally shown and break free from the insanity he had thrust her mind into. No matter how much her heart refused to let him go, she had to do it. She had to break free.

Ginny walked to the dresser and picked up the chain that held Harry's ring. She had not worn it since the day she had sex with Draco, feeling that it would only betray the man who had given it to her, but now she needed the strength that it could give her. She needed to feel his memory close to her heart, to feel the cold metal against her skin. It was a reminder of everything she and her loved ones had fought for, and now she hoped it would give her the courage she needed to let go of all that was holding her back.

The door opened. Ginny turned abruptly, her breath catching when she met those steely-grey eyes. It was as if Fate had already sensed what she was going to do and was now testing her to see if she could really break from the chains it had placed on her.

"Draco," Ginny greeted coolly.

"Ginevra."

He closed the door behind him and walked further into the room.

"I see Lara has already been. How long until the birth now?"

"A week, maybe a week and a half."

"I see."

His eyes latched onto the ring hanging loosely at her chest. A small laugh escaped his lips, though his expression was far from pleasant.

"So you've returned back to Potter, have you? How easy you women switch from one man to the next."

"What do you want?" Ginny demanded, gritting her teeth. "If you've come here to insult me, you can leave."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "Oh, did I hit a nerve?"

She glared at him, her breasts rising and falling rapidly with her anger. His smile grew, and, like a cat stalking its prey, he walked slowly towards where she stood, stopping barely an inch away from her so that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.

"Tell me, Ginevra," he murmured in his low, velvety voice, "do you really think Potter would want you wearing that after everything you did with me?"

He touched the ring at her chest, his fingers just brushing against her breasts where the low neckline did not cover. She let out a shaky breath, half-submitting to the seductive charm he emanated, but his words quickly had her snapping back to reality.

"That's none of your business," Ginny spat, pushing his hand away.

He laughed, a cruel, mocking laugh. "Please, Ginevra, acting like the maiden of outraged virtue won't work for you now, and neither will this pathetic display of loyalty for Potter." He stepped closer to her, dominating her space until she felt her heart drumming wildly in her chest. "Don't forget that you were the one who came to me. It has always been you that wanted more. I simply gave you what you wanted."

Ginny suddenly found her back pressing against the wall. She hadn't even realised he had been manoeuvring her backwards, let alone that she had been moving at all. He leaned in close to her, his warm breath brushing against her ear like the lightest of kisses.

"You can't tell me that you don't want it still," he whispered, shifting her hair away from her neck with one graceful movement to expose the sensitive skin. "You can cling to that piece of metal all you like, but it won't give you what you need." He pressed a kiss just under her ear. "Warmth." Another kiss on her pulse. "Emotion." He brought his face back around to hers, his eyes dark with desire as he stared intently into her own. "Pleasure."

Ginny gave an involuntary shiver at the expression in his eyes. It would be so easy to give into him, so easy to let him swallow her up in his madness again, but deep down she knew that his words meant nothing. He would only hurt her, and though there was a time when she had allowed him to do so, even welcomed the pain he gave her in all her twisted desire and starved need for affection, she knew better than to trust him now.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, glaring at him now. "Do you really love tormenting me so much or is it simply because you can't bear the thought that I might actually move on and forget about you?"

His eyes flashed, and Ginny knew by the ugly expression that came to his face that she had struck home. The insecurity was all there, baring his vulnerability for the first time. He did not know how to love, and so he had pushed her away, hoping to crush her intentions and hopes, but like a possessive dog with its bone, he could not bear the thought of not actually having her there when he wanted her. He could not bear to have _her_ deem him as nothing, to have _her_ leave him alone.

Draco's mouth curled into an unpleasant sneer. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh," Ginny mocked in his own derisive tones, "did I hit a nerve?"

His expression darkened. He didn't even look remotely handsome right now. It was somehow satisfying to her. She had always hated the fact that he was so beautiful to look upon, but now his face reflected the ugliness that she knew painted his soul. She could see that he hated the fact that she had found his weakness, and with all the spitefulness of a broken woman, she wanted to dig her hands deeper into that wound and force him to feel the pain he had made her suffer so that he too could know what it felt like to have his heart scorned and crushed.

Ginny leaned in closer to him, her eyes glinting maliciously. "You thought you could play with me at your will, that you could string me along and beat me like some begging dog at your heels. But we all grow tired of games, Draco. You wanted to drive me away? Well, congratulations, you've succeeded, because there is nothing you can do now that would make me want to spend another minute in your hateful presence."

She made to walk away, but he gripped her hard by her shoulders and pushed her back up against the wall, his eyes narrowing as he stared darkly into her own.

"Are you forgetting that you're still _my_ prisoner?" he growled. "You'll go when I say you can go."

"I may be your prisoner, but I'm not your whore," Ginny snapped. "Now take your hands off me."

Draco glared at her, still with that ugly expression on his face, and then he crushed his lips against hers in a ruthless kiss. She gasped in surprise, and he quickly took advantage of her open mouth and deepened the kiss, not even letting her have a chance to say otherwise. Her hands pushed at his chest, trying to get him to release her, but he only gripped her tighter, practically suffocating her in his possessive embrace. Everything about the kiss was raw and angry, filled with the loathing that he felt for her and the undisclosed need that always pulled him back, but she was too enraged to take delight in the fact that she had, at last, succeeded in shattering his control.

She finally managed to wrench her lips away from his, and then she slapped him hard in the face, her eyes blazing with unrestrained anger.

"Don't you dare do that again," Ginny spat in a low, shaking voice.

"You can't tell me that you didn't like it," he retorted with an unrepentant smirk.

Ginny could only glare at him, knowing that she _had_ enjoyed it. He laughed, sensing his victory over her.

"Face it, love. You'll never be rid of me. You just can't help yourself."

"You're wrong."

His eyes narrowed, and Ginny winced as he tightened his grip on her shoulder, his expression darkening in such a way that she felt a shiver of trepidation travel down her spine. Was he going to hurt her?

The sound of the door opening had them both jumping in surprise, so caught up were they in their emotions. Ginny turned her face to see Narcissa enter the room.

"What are you doing, Draco?" Narcissa demanded in freezing accents. "Do you have any idea what the Dark Lord would do if you hurt Ginevra?"

Draco abruptly released Ginny as if he had only just realised how aggressively he had been holding her. He took a step back, his expression an odd mixture of contrition and impenitence.

"You can leave," Narcissa ordered, staring coolly at her son. "I think you've done enough damage for one day."

The blond stared at Ginny as if he were trying to decide whether it was worth it to stay or not, but then he simply turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Ginny let out a deep breath. She was glad that was over. She didn't like that her resolve had almost wavered simply because he had shown an interest in her again. It frightened her just how much power he had over her, for the longing to be in his arms was still a very real part of her. She realised more than ever how imperative it was that she get away from him. He would consume her, destroy her even, and it disturbed her to think that she had almost let him. She needed to get out, and she needed to get out now.

"Are you all right?" Narcissa asked, snapping the redhead from her thoughts.

Ginny nodded. "It's nothing he hasn't done before."

Narcissa frowned. "I don't like him being alone with you. He's become so unpredictable of late. I'm worried for your safety, Ginevra, especially with the birth so close."

"I'm worried too," Ginny said truthfully.

She knew that another encounter like that could break her, not to mention the fact that she had only a week left before the monster inside her was born and she was killed.

Ginny looked at the blonde intently. She knew that Narcissa was the only person who could help her now, but would Narcissa be willing to do it? There was still so much that the older woman kept back from her, and though she had sympathised with Ginny more than once, there was no telling if that really meant anything. It would be a risk, but Ginny knew it was a risk that she had to take.

She stepped forward towards the blonde, grasping the woman's hands impulsively in her own.

"I need your help, Narcissa."

"What?"

The astonishment and discomfort in the older woman's eyes was unmistakable. This did not bode well, but Ginny pressed on, knowing that she would never get a chance like this again.

"Lara tells me that I have a week, maybe a week and a half left before the baby will be born," Ginny explained in a rush. "And then they'll take the child and kill me, and everything I've been fighting for will be in vain. Everything _you've_ suffered for your son will be in vain. I know you're not like them. I know you don't care about the Dark Lord and his plans. I'm begging you to help me escape now before they can get my child. _Please_, Narcissa. I can't bear to sit back and let him win, but I can't do this alone. I just can't."

"You're asking a lot from me, Ginevra."

"I know. I know it's selfish of me to even ask you to risk your life like this, but what if there was a way to stop him? Don't you wonder what it would be like to live in a world that he didn't control?"

"I'm afraid that there wouldn't be much of a world left."

Ginny shook her head, frustrated. "You don't understand."

"I understand, Ginevra, but you need to understand that what you're asking for is a miracle. Even if I could get you out of the manor, what hope do you have in stopping the Dark Lord? You're just a simple girl."

"I have to try," Ginny whispered. "I've been fighting against him for four years, I've watched my whole family be slaughtered before me because of _him_, and in a week that will all mean nothing. He's going to kill me, Narcissa, and he will use my child to become the most powerful wizard on this earth. I can't let that happen, not while I still have a chance to do something."

"And if it fails?"

"At least we would have tried. At least we would have done something to stop that man controlling us. I—" a small sob broke from Ginny's mouth, the tears stinging at her eyes "—I just can't bear to let it end this way. How can I embrace death when I know that it will mean the end of everything I love? How can I just sit back and let fate take its course when there's still a chance to change it?"

Narcissa considered the redhead for a moment through her cool blue eyes. Her lashes closed, veiling whatever thoughts were hidden behind that mask of impassivity, and then she stared back at Ginny with a face that was so emotionless it was as if there was no life left in her at all.

"I cannot help you, Ginevra. I'm sorry."

Ginny couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had thought for sure that Narcissa would help her – she had to help her – but here was the blonde refusing to do a thing. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not when everything was about to slip beyond her control.

The redhead slid dazedly to the floor, unable to withstand the crushing weight that bore down on her. She was barely aware of her surroundings, simply staring before her with unseeing eyes.

"So that's it, then?" Ginny whispered.

"I'm sorry," Narcissa repeated.

She sounded genuinely remorseful, but what did that matter? Ginny didn't want her apologies. They were of no use to her now, not when she knew she had barely a week left to live.

"Please," Ginny said in as dignified a voice as she could manage, "just leave me."

There was no response, only the sound of retreating footsteps and the soft click of the door sealing shut. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, fruitlessly trying to hold back her tears as she curled up into a ball on the floor and clutched her arms around her swollen stomach.

Now what was she going to do?

**OOOO**

Narcissa stared at the empty chair in front of her, the same chair where she had last seen her husband's slumped over form. Even now, she could vividly recall the ambience of death that had clung to the room when she had found him two years ago, though at the time she had not understood the feelings assailing her body. She had thought him asleep and, ignorant as she was of the situation, she had scolded him for being so at his desk. When he had not responded to her reprimand, she remembered how an unnameable panic had attacked her chest, how the sight of him so still and silent became somehow ominous to her eyes.

It was strange how one's body could sense when something was wrong before the mind could fully fathom the reason. She could recognise that now, but at the time she had not considered the oddities of that sixth sense. She had simply reached out a trembling hand towards Lucius, disturbing the silvery strands of hair that had shielded his face from her view, and there she had seen his grey eyes staring back at her: eyes that were empty of all life. That was when the truth had sunk in. Her husband was dead. Murdered. Gone.

Draco had comforted her that night. She could still recall the way he had held her in his arms after discovering her sobbing and clutching her husband's dead body; the way he had muttered soothing nonsense to her that neither of them had probably paid much attention to at the time but which had given both mother and son a sense of solace. When Lucius was buried the next day in the family cemetery, Draco had held her still, and he had continued to do so for the rest of those dark days while she struggled to come to terms with the loss of her husband, as if he had sensed that her body could no longer hold itself up when the organ keeping it alive was so crushed.

He had been her rock back then, giving her the strength she needed to keep living in a world so mundane and meaningless without the man she loved to share it with. She had never seen her son so affectionate, so open with his love for her, and though it was true that in just four months he would start to degenerate into the unfeeling monster that he now resembled, she had known from that point on that she could never abandon him.

The truth was that she could have fled any time during the past three years. Though her own wand had been snapped, she had always known that a spare lay in her husband's desk. Lucius had let her in on all the secrets of the manor, which is how she also knew that the anti-Apparation wards that kept Ginevra and herself trapped in the manor did not apply to his study. Unfortunately, neither the wand nor the lack of wards had helped Lucius – traitors never do make their identities known until it is too late – but Narcissa knew that it could help her aid Ginevra in escaping from the manor.

It was for this reason that she now found herself once again in the study that had seen the last moments of her husband's life. The image of the young girl crumpling to the floor before her like a wounded bird had continued to haunt her, damning her for her lie. Narcissa had never held another's life in her hands, never felt the guilt of knowing that her selfishness could be the cause of another's death. For all her position as the Malfoy matriarch, she had been a mere spectator to the war, kept like a fragile flower behind a wall of glass that was only allowed to observe the chaos happening around her.

But now that war was intruding upon her, forcing her to choose between what was comfortable and what was right. She could not deny that she wished she had never bothered to be kind to the girl, that she had never forged those bonds of friendship. It would have been so much easier to let fate take its course then, to let Ginevra die. But she _had_ built those bonds, and she could not ignore the agonised promptings of her conscience.

Narcissa knew that this would probably be the only genuinely selfless thing that she would ever do in her life, for she had never cared about the war, and she had certainly never risked her life for anyone but her own family before simply because it was the 'right' thing to do. But that was the point, wasn't it? Ginevra had become almost like a daughter to her over the past two months. It was true that her love for the redhead was certainly nothing compared with the love she felt for her own son, but those motherly instincts had still been inspired and, in the end, it was those instincts that now prompted Narcissa to help the redhead escape.

Narcissa walked to the desk in the middle of the room and opened the top drawer. Out of it she pulled a thin piece of wood, which she pocketed in her robe. It would not do to have her son see her with it while she was walking around the hallways.

She took one last look at the empty chair, consolidating her resolve, and then she left the room and made her way back to Ginny's bedroom. She opened the door without knocking and saw the redhead sit up from the bed and stare at her through red-rimmed eyes.

"Follow me," Narcissa ordered.

Ginny blinked in surprise, but the blonde was already leaving the room. Ginny quickly scrambled to her feet and caught up to the older woman, a frown on her face.

"Where are we going?"

Narcissa just continued walking.

Ginny knew that she would get nothing more from the older woman and simply followed the blonde down the maze-like corridors until they came to a part of the mansion that she knew was near the kitchens. This was the same area that Draco had told her she was not allowed to wander around. She wondered if she was about to discover why.

She watched curiously as Narcissa stopped before a painting and muttered a few words under her breath. The painting swung open, revealing a darkened room.

"Quickly," Narcissa urged. "Before anyone sees."

Ginny scrambled in through the portrait hole, Narcissa following behind. It didn't take long for Ginny to realise that she was standing in someone's study.

"This was my husband's office," Narcissa explained. "He conducted all of his important business with the Dark Lord here."

Ginny glanced towards Narcissa in surprise. "Your husband?"

"Yes."

Narcissa wordlessly pulled out the thin piece of wood from her robe and handed it to Ginny.

"He always kept this here just in case something happened during one of his meetings. It's of no use to him now, but I believe it can help you."

Ginny took the wood from the blonde's hands, not even needing the familiar shock of magic that thrummed through her veins to know that she was holding a wand. Lucius Malfoy's wand, at that.

"This room has no anti-Apparation wards on it," Narcissa continued, allowing her lips to form into a small smile. "You are free to go, Ginevra."

For a moment Ginny wasn't sure that she had heard right. It just seemed so impossible after everything that had happened that day, but there was no denying it. She really was free to go.

Ginny clutched the wand in her hands with renewed hope, but then she shook her head. "I can't leave without Harry. I won't leave him again."

"To get him now would be to risk discovery. You must go now if you want to escape."

Ginny shook her head more fervently. "I can't."

Narcissa sighed in exasperation. "Fine. I'll create a Portkey to get into his room. I have enough magic to remove the wards for that."

She took the wand back from Ginny, not having a wand of her own, and began chanting a few incantations under her breath. Then she grabbed a paperweight from the desk and tapped it with the wand, muttering a few more incantations.

"Alright, it's ready."

Ginny placed her finger on the paperweight. Within seconds, she felt the familiar pull at her navel, and then the world was spinning around her and she found herself standing in the middle of Harry's room. There he was on the bed, looking surprisingly healthy from the last time she had seen him, but Ginny didn't have time to consider why; Narcissa was already handing the wand back to her, urging her to hurry and take the new Portkey she had made for the redhead to get out of the manor.

"Wait!" Ginny exclaimed, pausing in the act of grabbing hold of Harry's hand, and stared at the blonde incredulously. "You're not coming?"

Narcissa shook her head. "I could have left a long time ago if I had wanted to. I have no wish to leave now."

"But you'll die if you stay here. They'll know you helped me, and I can't just leave you here!"

"Then that is a risk I will have to take."

"This isn't the time to be noble, Narcissa! What good is it to stay here? Please, come back with me. We can find the Order together!"

"My son is what matters to me in this world, not the Dark Lord and the war. But you—" Narcissa placed her cool hand against Ginny's cheek. "You must fight for all of us."

She pulled her hand away and stepped back. "Now go. You don't have much time left before someone realises what has happened."

"You aren't going to come with me, are you?"

Narcissa shook her head. "I made up my mind a long time ago that I would stay with Draco until the end, and that is what I intend to do."

Ginny stared at this cool, impassive woman who had done so much for her, and it was then, as she looked into those determined blue eyes, that she finally understood. Narcissa was not trying to be noble by staying behind; she was just doing what was natural to her. It was the same reason why Molly Weasley had placed a silencing charm on Ginny before stuffing her into a cupboard when she had heard the Death Eaters coming to attack the Burrow; the same reason why Lily Potter had sacrificed herself for her baby boy on that fateful night all those years ago.

Narcissa loved her son, and she would do anything_, anything_ to protect him.

Ginny let out an odd sob and threw her arms around the older woman. She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears already spilling down her cheeks as she was enfolded in the blonde's familiar embrace. The thought that this might be the last time she would see the Narcissa made her tears come all the more freely, for she knew that Draco mother's life now lay in a very precarious position.

"I wish you were coming with me," Ginny choked out, still struggling with her tears.

"You'll be fine," Narcissa said reassuringly.

"It's not me I'm worried about."

Narcissa paused. "You don't have to worry about me, Ginevra. I know what I'm doing."

Ginny knew that there was nothing she could say to change the older woman's mind, and so she simply hugged the blonde all the more fiercely.

"Thank you," Ginny whispered. "For everything."

Narcissa gently pulled back. "You should go now."

Ginny nodded and took hold of Harry's hand while grasping the Portkey with the other. She took one last look at Narcissa's regal, ever-imperturbable features, and then she felt the familiar pull at her navel and she was gone.

**OOOO**

Lara sat up with a jolt, cold sweat clinging to her skin. She brushed the sticky hair off her face and stood up from the chair, her heart pounding in her chest as she ran towards her master's room. She didn't bother to knock, bursting right on through the door and stared at the Dark Lord with her face a ghostly white.

"What is it, Lara? What's wrong?"

"Ginevra," Lara gasped. "She's gone, and she's taken Potter with her."

Voldemort's eyes flashed a deadly red. "How is this possible?"

"I don't know. I checked to make sure she couldn't do anything to disrupt your plans. Everything seemed normal. There was no possible way for her to escape by herself."

"Then she must have got help," Voldemort observed in a chillingly calm voice. "Hand me my cloak, Lara. I think it's time we pay a little visit to the Malfoys."


	12. The Greater Good

**A/N: This chapter has been dedicated to the wonderful Jack Tamara, whose encouraging reviews helped inspire and push me to get this chapter written. As you can see, I kept my promise. :P**

**That being said, I would like to apologise for the wait. I moved house, and then I had to wait longer than expected to get the Internet going again. After that, I was just busy with Christmas and New Years in general, and then my laptop decided to die on me. It's just been woe after woe, I'm afraid. In any case, here is the promised new chapter. I hope you enjoy it.**

**The Greater Good**

Ginny wasn't sure how long she had been walking. The Portkey that Narcissa had made for Harry and herself had dumped them right in the middle of the Nomad Plains. The redhead had Apparated immediately to where she knew her camp had last been stationed, but there had been nothing to find there except a few wanderers who looked a bit too shifty for her likings, especially when she was the equivalent of being eight months pregnant and had an unconscious Harry Potter for excess baggage.

She knew that there was no point staying in a deserted wasteland, and so she had Apparated again and again, hoping to discover the campsite that she had once called home. Unfortunately, the only people she did find were a squad of Death Eaters. That was when she realised that randomly Apparating to places where she guessed the camp might be was probably not the smartest thing to do. It had been pure luck that the group of Death Eaters she had stumbled across hadn't seen her, and the last thing she wanted was to be taken back to Voldemort.

So here she was, walking back into the Nomad Plains with Harry Potter hovering beside her like an eerie, life-sized marionette. The pair looked ridiculous against the bleak landscape: Ginny with her swollen belly and fine clothes, and Harry with his black cloak fanning out like giant bat wings as he drifted along. It would have been almost comical were it not for the desperation of their situation, a desperation that became all the more urgent when she thought of how quickly her captors would realise that she was gone thanks to the uncanny powers of a certain blue-eyed witch. Still, desperation didn't make levitating Harry any easier.

"Why do you have to be so damn heavy?" Ginny muttered as she waddled along. "I hope you realise that even magic can only make things feel effortless for so long."

She wiped the sweat off her brow and clutched Lucius' wand tighter in her fingers. The magical strain of using a hover charm for such a considerable extent of time was well and truly beginning to take its toll, and she was not ignorant of the fact that it was not wise to do any heavy-lifting while pregnant, whether physical or magical. She could only hope that carrying Harry would not have any adverse effects on her child. Though monstrous and unwanted, the baby was still the only leverage she had with her enemies. Without the child, she was nothing; without the child, she was dead.

Ginny paused in her slow trek, leaning her head down as she tried to catch her breath. To say that she was frustrated was an understatement. She had no idea where the refugee camp might be. She was tired, hot and hungry, her legs ached, her back ached, her head ached—everything seemed to ache. It was as if being pregnant had somehow intensified the misery she now faced. The worst part was that there was no saying when she would find the camp. She was completely relying on luck now, which was not particularly comforting when she considered her past record with that flighty force named Fortune. But Ginny knew that she couldn't give up. She had to keep trying, no matter how tired or disheartened she felt. Too much had been risked for her to give up now. There was no way that she was going to allow Narcissa's sacrifice to be in vain.

Ginny held her head up high again and continued walking, feeling the hot sun beating down upon her, its warmth licking at her skin with scalding flames. In the distance, she could see nothing but barren wasteland, the remnant of a world that had once bustled with life before it had fallen victim to the decaying fingers of war. It was so different from the cold beauty of Malfoy manor, so ugly and brown. There was nothing to comfort her in this bleak landscape, nothing to stop her from dwelling on what she had left behind.

If only she knew what was happening to them. She thought of Narcissa, so proud and beautiful, and she felt sick to think that the woman she loved so much might be suffering at the hands of Voldemort at this very moment because of her. Ginny wasn't sure how she would ever be able to live with herself if something happened to Narcissa, but it was quite a different feeling that arose inside her when she thought of _him_.

Ginny could see him now as he had stood before her that last time: desperate, vulnerable and yet still so full of hate. He had openly revealed his need for her then, and it had taken all her courage to resist him and find the will to leave, but there had been no victory. She did not feel the relief that she had thought she would, and even now her heart literally ached at the thought that she might never see him again, this fallen angel who was so twisted and malicious in all his dark glory, and who had hurt her so much.

It was wrong that she should still feel this way, wrong that she should have ever felt this desperate longing to be close to him, but she knew that even if he was no longer in her presence, she could never truly leave him. Not really. He was a part of her now, whether she liked it or not, and though he may be cruel and undeserving of her sympathy, she could not help but hope that he was safe. He was all she had left, after all—he and his mother. She had to hope for them.

Ginny froze. Something was shimmering in the distance, almost blinding her with its sapphire sparks. It took her a moment to register why that particular shade of blue was so familiar to her, and then she sank to her knees, tears of genuine relief slipping down her cheeks as she realised that she had finally found the camp. Harry dropped to the ground beside her, no longer held up by her hover charm, but she was too tired to care if he had been hurt. They were safe, and that was all that mattered now.

It is a strange thing that when one finally takes a rest after pushing oneself for so long, all the exhaustion and pain comes in a rush. It was no different for Ginny. She had been walking for so long that even the thought of standing up now made her blanch, but that did nothing to dull her sense of self-preservation. She instinctively clutched Lucius' wand tighter in her hand when she heard footsteps come crunching towards her followed by the gentle murmur of voices. Her eyes darted towards the sound, and she spotted two men drawing closer.

"Hey, you!" one of the men called in a brusque voice. "What do you think you're doing out here?"

"Don't frighten her," the other admonished. "I don't think she is from the camp."

Ginny stared up at them with wild eyes, still clutching the wand tightly in her hand. She knew it was probably just the scouts who normally skirted the campsite coming to investigate, but she was not going to take her chances. It was difficult to trust even the most harmless of people after being held captive by Death Eaters for two months.

The men faltered at her threatening expression, but then the brusque man noticed who was lying beside her and let out a sharp intake of breath.

"Is that Harry Potter?"

"Don't you touch him," Ginny hissed.

"Calm down, Missie. I'm not going to hurt him."

Ginny glowered at him. She didn't like the look of that brusque man. He reminded her of Baldren, the man that had tried to rape her. They both had the same mean little eyes, and his attempt at a placating expression was just as sickening to her in that moment.

"Listen" the other man said, stepping forward. "There's no need for us to come to wands."

His intention, no doubt, was to assure her that they were not her enemies, and she watched him warily as he drew closer towards her. He smiled reassuringly, and then, quite suddenly, his jaw went slack and his eyes widened with recognition as he saw her face closely for the first time. Ginny also immediately knew who the man before her was. The light brown hair adorning his head, though it was more streaked with grey than the last time she had seen it, and his kind but scarred features were impossible to forget.

"Remus," Ginny whispered, hardly daring to believe her eyes.

"Ginny," Remus breathed, his face a mask of open disbelief and shock. "How did you—I thought you were dead—and Harry—" He broke off and stared at her in wonder. "_How_ is this possible?"

She just shook her head, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks as she realised she was not alone any more. She was finally with those she loved again.

"Never mind," Remus said quickly. "I can see that you're in no condition to be answering questions."

He turned and gave a quiet order to his brusque companion, who Ginny discovered was named Gordon. Gordon said nothing in response and simply scooped Harry's prone form up into his arms. Both men ignored Ginny's angry protest.

"I know you're worried about Harry, Ginny, but he'll be fine," Remus said soothingly. "Gordon will take care of him."

Ginny didn't bother to explain that was exactly what she was worried about. She knew that Gordon probably wouldn't do anything to Harry, but that didn't stop her from feeling edgy and distrustful.

"All right," Remus said, cheerfully oblivious of her thoughts as he wrapped an arm around her waist to help her up, "let's get you back on your feet."

He had not even pulled her fully upright before her pregnant state was made obvious to him. It was easy to miss the way her stomach protruded unnaturally from her slim body when she was hunched over on the ground, but now the ugly truth was bared before his eyes. He abruptly released her in shock, his face pale. Ginny could see his confusion and felt her heart sink. He was not stupid; he would have realised that there was no way she could be that pregnant in such a short amount of time. It had only been two months since she had been kidnapped, after all. Whatever was inside her was definitely not normal.

"What is this?" Remus asked in a hushed, disturbed voice.

There was something accusing about his horrified gaze, something that made her want to run away and hide like the fair maidens in the fairy tales who had been transformed into hideous hags and so were shunned by those who had known them. It was a shock to her, for Remus had only ever been kind and understanding towards her, but she knew it was no more than what she could have expected. She probably did look like a freak to him.

Ginny looked at him pleadingly. "I know it looks bad, but you have to trust me."

"Tell me everything," came his grim reply.

It was the last thing she felt like doing, but Ginny knew that there was no point in arguing with him, so she pushed her weariness behind her and began her tale, starting at the battle that had occurred at their old camp when Draco had first come to kidnap her. Remus was surprised that Voldemort had specifically ordered her to be kidnapped, but it soon made sense to him when Ginny disclosed that the Dark Lord had learnt of the magical powers she held and sought to have them for himself. She then went on to explain about the magic Draco had been given when he was a baby, and what that magic would do when it was fused with her own inside her womb.

"You mean that Malfoy brat raped you so that he could create some dark magic spawn?" Remus growled, looking suddenly more wolfish than man.

"_No_!"

He blinked, and Ginny suddenly realised how very impassioned her answer had been. She blushed and looked away, not wanting Remus to know how far she had actually fallen for that same 'Malfoy brat.' Just the thought of how much she had wanted Draco that night brought a flush of crimson to her cheeks, so it was no surprise that she didn't deceive her old friend for even a second.

"You care for him, don't you?"

She shook her head, but she looked so pathetic doing so that it only served to confirm his suspicions.

"He murdered your brother, Ginny."

"I know."

The words came out in the barest whisper, filled with the disgust and shame that she felt for herself. Her situation was indeed a hopeless one, but she knew there was no point in dwelling on it. There was enough going on without her wallowing in self-pity. Remus seemed to agree and did not press her for any more information about Draco; instead, he asked her what Voldemort wanted to do with the child when it was born. Ginny explained that Voldemort wanted to perform a sacrifice known as the Hadem Rhi that would allow him to take on the child's powers, making him quite literally the most powerful dark wizard to ever walk the earth. She would then be killed, most likely with Draco, so that no more children could be created to threaten his power.

"I see," Remus said. "Thank you for telling me that. I think we can come up with a plan now."

He must have seen her hopeless expression, for he took her hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't worry, Ginny. Everything will be alright."

"I hope so."

"It will." He smiled and then placed a steadying hand on her back. "Come, you must be tired."

Ginny was, in fact, ready to collapse, and so she was more than happy to allow herself to be taken off to one of the tents so that she could get some rest. Of course, the bed she was given was nothing compared to the one she had slept in at Malfoy manor, but after walking for several hours on dusty, uneven ground, she was not going to complain.

She lay in the bed, thinking of how strange it was to be back in the refugee camp and wondering what would happen to her now. So much had happened that day, and so much was yet to happen, but the image that stayed with her as she fell asleep was not of the future, but of the blonde woman she had left behind.

**OOOO**

Narcissa let out a shuddering breath, one hand clutching her chest as the other held her trembling body up from collapsing completely to the ground. It was an agony beyond agony, and she would be lying if she did not admit that she wanted nothing more than to beg for the pain to stop.

She gritted her teeth and tried to hold back her screams, but she could not prevent the small cry of hurt from slipping from her lips. The curse was abruptly lifted, and her eyes, burning with suppressed tears, glanced up to meet the chilling face of her torturer. He stared back, his crimson eyes cold and calculating, though his smile was disconcertingly pleasant.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Voldemort observed.

His voice was warm and friendly, a complete contrast to the merciless brutality that he was inflicting upon her. Narcissa said nothing in response, just as she had said nothing as soon as he and Lara had first entered the room and demanded where Ginevra was. There was no point in lying since they already knew the truth, but she also knew that there was no point in surrendering all her knowledge to them either. Distraction was the key.

Voldemort smiled even more as he circled her like a lazy cat waiting to pounce.

"I know you helped our little friend escape, my dear Narcissa," he continued, "so let's not waste any more time. Tell me where the Portkey has taken her and I might let you live."

Again, Narcissa remained silent.

He sighed. "Your display of nobility is getting rather tedious."

"You already know all I can tell you," Narcissa responded with cold civility. "There is nothing more to say."

"Is that so? I wonder if your son would agree."

Her eyes flashed with emotion, and the fear she had kept so well hidden seeped out into her expression for the first time since the Dark Lord had started his interrogation. Draco had always been the one to shake her calm, and the thought of him suffering in her place because of her choice to help Ginevra was enough to drive her to desperation. She had hoped to protect him, and she hadn't even told him what had happened, for she had known that he would be unlikely to approach either her or Ginevra after the events of that morning. But now her plans were all falling apart right before her eyes. This was not the quick punishment that she had been hoping for.

Voldemort looked down at her in some amusement, seeming to sense her thoughts. He turned and faced the restless witch next to him.

"Lara, go and bring me Draco."

Lara's eyes briefly flickered to Narcissa with an unreadable expression on her face, and then she left the room.

"Wait!" Narcissa cried, reaching out an imploring hand towards Voldemort. "My son has nothing to do with this. I was the one who helped her escape. He is completely innocent."

Voldemort smiled with lazy amusement. "I know."

Her eyebrows drew together into a frown as she puzzled over his words. The feelings of unease that had been prickling inside of her ever since the formidable wizard had entered the room suddenly intensified. She stared at him in suspicion, but he only smiled enigmatically, clearly pleased with whatever it was that he had decided.

Draco suddenly burst through the door, with Lara following much more serenely behind.

"What's going on?" Draco demanded as he took in the scene before him.

It was clear by the harsh curl of his lip that he was not pleased.

"Your mother is keeping secrets from us," Voldemort explained in a voice of painstaking patience. "I thought a more personal touch might break her reticence."

"I don't understand," Draco said slowly.

"Didn't she tell you?" Voldemort asked with mock surprise. "Your mother helped Ginevra escape with Harry Potter and now no one knows where she, or he for that matter, is."

"Mother?"

It was not a question. It was an accusation. Narcissa could almost hear Draco's silent hiss of 'traitor' whispering over and over again in her ears, and the betrayal he felt was glaringly obvious in his expression. She had hoped that maybe he would understand, but she saw now that he was just as selfish as ever. It would have never occurred to him to help Ginevra. He would have left her to die rather than risk his own life, but Narcissa could not hold it against her son. She would have done the same once upon a time.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Narcissa said, genuinely remorseful. "I never meant for you to get involved."

"Well, it's a bit late for that, isn't it?"

"Indeed, it is, young Malfoy," Voldemort interposed with another of his unsettling smiles. "You cannot have forgotten that I placed Ginevra under _your_ care, and since your mother is proving difficult, you now have a choice, and I do hope you will choose wisely."

Narcissa felt another shiver of unease slip through her, though this time she knew why, for she understood the Dark Lord's plan now. He did not think that Draco knew the answers; he wanted Draco to get the answers from her. He must have realised that pain alone would not have made her confess, but there were other weapons besides physical pain that he could use. That was why he had brought Draco in, the 'personal touch'. He knew that it would hurt her far more deeply if Draco were the one to torture her for the information she held. If that failed, or if Draco refused, then the Dark Lord would simply use Draco against her by punishing him instead. It was a foolproof plan, for neither option was something she could stomach.

Draco did not seem to catch on to his master's intentions as fast as his mother had, or perhaps he simply didn't want to believe it was possible, and so he merely frowned at the crimson-eyed man before him.

"What choice is that?"

"It's really quite simple," Voldemort responded. "Get me the information I need and I will spare your life. Refuse and your mother's fate will become your own."

Draco's eyes darted to his mother's, a moment of real panic flashing across his normally impassive face. It was clear that he had not been expecting such an ultimatum and that he was reluctant to choose either option. Somehow, this comforted Narcissa. It proved that he still cared.

"Surely there must be another way," Draco began, glancing at his master with as close to a pleading expression as he would allow.

"Your mother has already proven herself a traitor and you have failed me more than enough," Voldemort cut in ruthlessly. "Do not think that I will spare your lives out of mercy. I do not keep servants who are of no use to me."

Narcissa would have laughed had the situation not been so desperate. She knew that this had nothing to do with being useful; this was simply a case of the Dark Lord getting his sick satisfaction out of turning family members against each other. It would be considered entertaining for him to watch Draco torture her and force her to reveal where the Portkey had taken Ginevra, just as it would be equally amusing for him to punish Draco in her place and watch her reaction. He was sick and twisted, and he made everyone around him sick and twisted. But he was not going to have her son. Not this time.

"Enough!" Narcissa cried.

She struggled to her feet, not wanting to look as if she were grovelling on her knees before him.

"Yes, my dear? Are you ready to speak?" Voldemort asked politely, as if he had not just been threatening to kill her and her son.

"I am."

"Then by all means, speak."

"I cannot tell you where the Portkey took Ginevra because I do not know myself, but I will say this: I do not regret what I have done, and I will give no excuse for my behaviour. I am every bit the traitor that you call me, but you and I both know that my son is neither worthless to you nor to be blamed for my choices. You will gain nothing in killing him, especially now that Ginevra has gone with the child, so if you want someone to punish, then punish me."

Voldemort considered her with a calculating expression.

"You're either very brave or very foolish."

Narcissa stared into her tormentor's red eyes, her own features set in their usual impassive mask. It would be a lie to say that she was not afraid. She was not inherently noble. She could not fearlessly look upon her fate and welcome it with open arms, but whoever said that courage could only be found where there was no fear? She knew this was the only way to protect the ones she loved, and in that she found her resolve.

"Perhaps I am foolish," Narcissa said softly, "but at least I will have a clear conscience. You wouldn't understand. You've never felt the need to protect someone other than yourself." Her eyes drifted to her son, and a sad sort of smile touched her lips. "I could not have done anything else."

Draco gave an involuntary twitch as if he was restraining himself from reaching out to her. Their eyes met, and though Voldemort was speaking again, neither paid any heed to his words; the world only existed in the face of the other.

That was why Narcissa did not see the flash of sickly green that buried itself into her chest only seconds later, but Draco did. He saw the way her azure eyes, so filled with love, suddenly stilled and became hollow; he watched, helpless, as her body fell backwards in a graceful arc to the floor, where he knew she would never move again. For a moment they had understood each other, they had shared a connection, and now that moment was gone, vanished with the breath that was stolen from her lungs.

His eyes began to burn, and there was suddenly a hard lump constricting his throat, making it difficult to swallow. His chest felt so tight that he could barely breathe, and as he looked down at his mother's lifeless body, the sense of loss pounding into his heart with each painful breath, he felt a surge of poisonous hate for his master run through his veins.

Draco tightened his fingers around the wand in his hand, the deadly magic locked inside of him begging to be released. He fixed his hateful gaze on Voldemort and saw that his master was utterly defenceless. There was no question of hesitating, no need to doubt. Draco simply lifted his wand and hissed the two deadly words. A jet of green exploded from the tip of the wood, stretching out its ghostly fingers towards the crimson-eyed man.

And then it was over.

Voldemort's body slumped to the ground, somehow looking more like an abandoned shell than Narcissa's had. It was slightly unsettling to look at, but then Draco realised with a jolt that he had just killed Lord Voldemort. It seemed so surreal, so ridiculously easy, and yet there was no denying that the man he had once called master was now dead.

His eyes drifted past the deformed body of his master to his mother's more graceful form. The way she was lying made her appear as if she were a bird that had fallen from the sky, her arms spread out like broken wings. There was something so weak and fragile about her, though he knew that she had been anything but when she was alive.

When she was alive.

Odd how he could think that but he refused—could not, in fact—think the word that truly described her condition. He knew it could not be denial. He had known as soon as the green light had touched her porcelain skin that she was no longer part of the living, and yet it was still so hard to grasp the fact that she was really gone.

His eyes burned once again with the tears that would not fall, and somehow he wished they would, if only to ease some of the pain. He felt so helpless, so utterly defeated. He felt just like the twenty-one year old boy that he was and not at all like the fearsome wizard he had come to consider himself. His mother was gone. The one person who had loved him and cared for him even when he knew he had not deserved it was gone. She had stood by him, she had believed in him, and now she had died for him. It was all just too much.

He knelt down beside his mother's body and reached out hesitantly to touch her cheek. It was still warm, but he knew it would soon be cold. A sigh broke from his lips, and he closed his eyes, hoping to shut out the reality that was now threatening to overwhelm him. He had never really realised how much his mother had meant to him until that moment when he knew there was no way to call her back, but the worst part was that he had done nothing to help her. She had sacrificed herself for him, and he—he had just let her die.

"Well, well," said a calm voice, "I did wonder how it was going to happen, but I never thought it would be like this."

Draco turned in alarm and found himself face-to-face with Lara, who was regarding him with a half smile on her lips. He had completely forgotten that she was still in the room.

"What are you talking about?" he growled, standing up.

He was in no mood for her riddles.

"Come, Draco, do you really need to ask me that or did you honestly think I am so blind as to not be able to sense when the Dark Lord is going to be murdered, especially by you?"

"You _knew_ this was going to happen?"

"Naturally. I've known this for a while now, though I don't deny there were moments when I wondered if you would actually do it. I see that you all you needed was the right incentive."

"_Incentive_?" Draco repeated furiously. "So my mother's death was nothing but an _incentive_ for me, was it?"

"That was unfortunate, and I am sorry for that, but getting angry with me will not bring her back. I was not the one who killed your mother."

"You _knew_ this was going to happen and yet you did nothing!"

"Why should I? She's your mother, but I didn't exactly see you stepping in to help her."

"_Shut up_!"

"Oh, is the poor baby upset? " Lara mocked in tones that were horribly reminiscent of his aunt Bellatrix.

Draco felt the poisonous hate surge up in him again, shredding at his insides as it tried to claw its way out and lash at the woman before him. He couldn't believe that he had protected her, couldn't believe that he had thought of her almost as a friend. She was every bit the traitor that everyone had called her, and right now he hated her.

"Now, Draco, don't look at me like that," Lara said calmly. "Even if I had been able to help your mother, it would not have changed anything. She made her choice when she decided to help Ginevra escape, and she had to face the consequences for that. It was out of my power to save her."

"What do you want, Lara?" Draco snapped, changing the subject.

He didn't want to hear her excuses right now. Not when the pain and guilt was still so raw inside him.

"I want you to help me find Ginevra."

Draco let out a harsh laugh. "You have got to be joking. _I_ help you find Ginevra? That girl is the reason my mother is lying on the floor in a lifeless heap right now, and you want me to help you find her?"

"She is in very grave danger."

"What do I care? She means nothing to me."

"Your mother loved her."

"Don't you bring my mother into this," Draco hissed threateningly.

"Why not? There's no point in trying to deny it. Your mother risked your life and her own so that she could help Ginevra escape, and she was killed because of it. Don't you think she would want you to help me keep Ginevra safe now?"

"Do you take me for a fool? I may not have been the most loyal Death Eater, but I'll never help a Dissenter scum like you."

"What makes you think I am a Dissenter?" Lara asked quite calmly.

"How about the fact that you neglected to inform us about Dissenter attacks and raids? Or that you cared nothing for Ginevra's safety until you learned what Voldemort wanted with her? Oh, and you just stood back and let me kill the master you were supposedly so loyal to, and now you want me to find Ginevra again, no doubt so that you can take her back to your leader and claim your reward."

"That's quite a list of accusations, but I am being perfectly honest when I say that I am not and never have been a Dissenter."

"You expect me to believe that?" Draco retorted. "Especially after you got me to lie for you that day?"

"Let me put it this way. I have never been a Dissenter, but I have also never been a loyal Death Eater. In some ways, then, you were quite right when you called me a traitor. However, I am not _the_ traitor."

"Then who is?"

"As to that, I have my guesses, but the person is very skilled at avoiding my powers. I believe whoever the Dissenter spy is was far deeper in the inner circle than we realised, but that is not the issue right now. Draco, we must find Ginevra."

"Just because you're not a Dissenter doesn't mean I trust you," Draco said bluntly.

"Then don't trust me, but we are wasting time talking like this. We must find Ginevra before it is too late."

"Why should I help her? Why should I help either of you?"

"Because she is the only person in the world who can remove the curse on you."

"What are you talking about?" Draco demanded, ignoring the shiver of unease that slid up his spine. "What curse?"

Lara reached inside her robe pocket and pulled out a small jade stone.

"But that's—"

"We don't have much time, Draco," Lara said grimly, cutting him short. "It's up to you."

Draco stared down at the stone in her hands. He had no reason to trust Lara, but he also knew that he had little to gain by not trusting her. There was nothing out there for him now, and if she was right in saying that he was cursed and that Ginny was the only one who could remove it, then what choice did he have?

"Fine," he sighed in resignation. "If you say that she can get the curse off me then I'll go with you, but there's something I have to do first."

"Draco, we don't have time!"

"We have time for this!"

Lara met his dark look with a warning glare of her own, but then he turned and knelt back down beside Narcissa's body, and a small 'oh' of understanding escaped her lips. She made no further protest after that and watched as he picked up his dead mother and carried her out into the manor grounds. He buried Narcissa beside his father in the family graveyard. He made no speeches and not a single tear fell from his eyes, but Lara knew it was not because he didn't care. He had always had difficulty showing his emotions.

After Draco had said his final goodbyes to his mother, she watched him burn Voldemort's body until there was nothing left but ash. It was not a new man that turned and looked at her when he was finished, for Draco was no phoenix ready to be made beautiful again. He could never be the hero, but then, she did not need a hero. She needed someone who did not care about good and evil, someone who would not hesitate to kill or feel pity for those in his way. His reason for helping her may be selfish, but he was willing to fight for Ginny, and that was all that mattered now.

Lara could only hope that they would not be too late.

**OOOO**

Rufus Scrimgeour stood before the members of the council, a grim expression on his old lion face. He was no longer the Minister of Magic, but people had continued to look up to him and view him as their leader long after the Ministry had fallen and Voldemort had taken control. Rufus knew this, and he planned to make full use of the advantage tonight.

"My fellow members of the council," Rufus boomed in his loud voice, "it is a sad day when we must come together to decide the fate of one of our own, but let us not be blinkered by our own compassion. Miss Ginevra Weasley may be an innocent, but the demon inside of her is not. There is no saying what it will grow to be if we let it live. The only definite we do have is that it will be an extremely powerful dark witch or wizard."

"What are you saying, Rufus?" croaked a wheezy old woman.

"I'm saying that we must destroy the child before it has a chance to destroy us."

"And the girl?"

Rufus met the woman's eyes steadily. "You-Know-Who sought to use her as a weapon against us. How do we know that he will not try to do it again? I do not want to take that risk."

"And so you would kill her?" one of the younger members of the council demanded.

"Some sacrifices must be made for the greater good."

"The greater good?" the same young man spat. "What you're proposing is murder."

"Alan is right," said another in a smooth voice. "There is no reason for us to kill Ginevra. Indeed, she is far more valuable to us alive. After all, if You-Know-Who wished to use the child as a weapon against us, then why can't we use it as a weapon against him?"

There were some murmurs of assent at this. Alan and a few of his supporters looked on in disgust while Rufus simply watched them all like a parent humouring a small child.

"You seem to be under the impression that we can control the child, Vincent," Rufus said with a harsh laugh, "but what if we can't? Would you be willing to take that risk?"

"Enough of this squabbling," the wheezy woman declared. "Let's take a vote."

Remus, who had remained silent throughout the meeting ever since he had given his account, watched as the verdict was passed with a sinking heart. It was not the outcome he had been hoping for, but even he had his misgivings. There was no denying that her child was not normal, and he had not forgotten about the way she had risen to defend the man who had held her captive. He knew Stockholm syndrome when he saw it, and he also knew that it never led to anything good.

"Ah, there you are, Remus," Rufus said, stopping in front of him. "I want you to take Ginevra to the Isolation Chamber. It would not do to have her get wind of what we're planning and escape from us too."

"You really believe this is the only answer then?"

"For the safety of our people, yes I do. That child is dangerous, and any fool knows that you cannot trust a person who has spent two months with Death Eaters and survived to tell the tale. They always come back traitors."

Remus had nothing to say to that, so he simply nodded his head and then left to carry out his order. He found Ginny in a dead sleep, and so he scooped her up in his arms and then carried her to the only concrete building in the campsite.

They called it the Isolation Room but, in truth, it was more of a prison. People who misbehaved or were seen as a danger to the community were sent there to be held in lockdown until it was deemed safe enough for them to mingle with the rest of the camp again. Remus did not like the thought of taking Ginny there, but he knew that he did not have much choice in the matter.

The steel doors to the chamber opened at his command. He adjusted his hold on the redhead and then carried her inside, the doors closing behind him like the jaws of a monster snapping shut. The interior was not welcoming. The walls were made of concrete, making everything cold and grey, but right at the end was a glass room, completely sealed, with a steel door identical to the one at the entrance.

Remus moved towards the room and gave another spoken command. The magic held within the walls registered the sound of his voice and, with a groan, opened the tightly sealed door. He walked inside, the feelings of claustrophobia already tickling at the hairs on the back of his neck. There was only a bed and a chamber pot in the room, both in poor condition. It was doubtful that anything more could have fit in the tiny space.

He placed the sleeping redhead carefully down on the bed, noting how vulnerable and defenceless she looked lying there like that. Perhaps that was why he felt the sickly feelings of guilt churn his stomach. She was completely oblivious to what was happening to her, and what was about to happen to her, but even genuine affection could not stop him from acting out his duty. He knew what he had to do.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Remus whispered.

He turned away from her and then left the room without a further word, the steel doors snapping shut behind him with ominous finality. The deed was done, but he knew he would forever be haunted by his actions that night.

And somewhere out in the dusky night, a witch and wizard continued to search.


	13. Nightmare and Reality

**Nightmare and Reality**

The camp was quiet. Two men could be seen standing in the far corner outside a small stone building, one of whom took an unhurried drag of his cigarette. He stared up at the bruised sky, which appeared to be on the verge of crying, and blew out a cloud of smoke as he turned to the man beside him.

"It looks like rain."

"Well, isn't that just bloody fantastic," his scowling companion muttered. "First they make us stay out here all night and freeze our balls off for that stupid girl, and now they're expecting us to get soaked for her too. I tell you what, Michael, if I had known this was what guard duty was going to be like, I would have never signed up for it."

"I hear they're going to kill her today anyway, so I guess you won't have to play sentry for long," Michael replied dispassionately as he flicked the ash off the tip of his cigarette with one long finger. "Still, I do wonder why they're so afraid of her. She's just a girl, and yet they all seem to think she's too dangerous to keep alive."

"Well, I don't give a bloody rat's arse whether she's dangerous to us or not; right now I just wish she would SHUT UP!"

He yelled this last part at the metal door behind him, and was rewarded for his efforts with a string of profanities and threats from the prisoner.

"You should just ignore her, Richard," Michael drawled, taking another languid drag of his cigarette. "She'll soon grow bored of shouting when she realises that no one cares."

"Ignore her? How can anyone ignore that banshee?"

"Quite easily."

Richard muttered something undistinguishable under his breath. Michael didn't ask for him to elaborate. He was just as sick of his fellow guardsman as he was of the prisoner he was supposed to be watching. The sooner she was killed the better, in his opinion. At least then he wouldn't have to be stuck on guard duty all day, listening to her ranting and raving while Richard complained about said raving. It was nothing personal – he didn't even know the girl, having joined the camp after she had been kidnapped. The fact was that all he cared about was his own comfort, and right now that comfort was not being satisfied.

"Isn't that Hamish?" Richard mused, gesturing to the drab-looking man coming towards them. "I thought he was watching over Potter."

"He was," Michael responded, frowning. "I wonder what he wants with us."

Hamish drew nearer, and Michael saw upon closer inspection how very pale the man looked. He also appeared to be trembling.

"What's the matter with you?" Michael asked abruptly. "You look like you've seen a Dementor."

"P-Potter," Hamish stuttered. "He's woken up. What's more, he's refused to let the girl be executed."

"What?" Richard exclaimed with wide eyes.

"It was completely insane," Hamish continued with a slight tremor in his voice. "I was just standing there, keeping guard as usual, when Potter suddenly sits up in his bed as if he hasn't been dead to the world for the past four years. He looks at me, cool as you please, and then he asks me quite calmly where Ginny Weasley is. Well, what else could I do but tell him that she was being held prisoner and was about to be executed?"

"And I suppose our dear Saint Potter, filled with righteous fury, went racing off to protect her from the nasty councilmen," Michael interposed, rolling his eyes.

Hamish gave an involuntary shudder at the memory. "I've never seen anyone look so angry. I thought he was going to kill me."

Michael was unimpressed by this disclosure and merely took a final drag of his cigarette, which he then discarded with disdainful fingers.

"Well, that's all very fascinating," he drawled, "but what I want to know is how long they're expecting me to watch this girl."

"I'm not sure," Hamish admitted. "I wasn't allowed in the council tent, so I didn't hear everything that was said, but it sounds like Potter persuaded the councilmen to wait and see if the child really was a danger to them before deciding what to do with her. Of course, Scrimgeour and his supporters didn't like it, but the rest of the council members agreed to wait."

"Are you telling me that we have to keep watching this damned banshee?" Richard demanded, looking dangerously like he was about to have an apoplectic fit.

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger," Hamish said, holding up his hands. "I'm just telling you what I know."

"Little good it did us," Michael sneered. "Though, I have to admit, I would give a hundred Galleons to have seen old Scrimgeour's face when he realised he was no longer in control, and that Potter was now calling the shots."

Richard scowled. "I don't like the thought of taking orders from a little brat, Chosen One or not."

"Speak of the devil," Michael murmured. "Here comes your Chosen One now, Richard."

All three men watched as Harry Potter came walking towards them. He did not look like a hero; he still had the emaciated look of someone chronically ill, and his round glasses and messy black hair did nothing to improve his features, which were quite unremarkable. Only his scar had ever made him stand out, but it was not his scar that made Michael stare now. There was something about the young man that didn't quite sit right, though he could not place his finger on exactly what.

"I-I should get back to my post," Hamish stammered.

"Coward," Michael muttered as he watched the drab-looking man make his retreat.

Harry stopped in front of Michael and Richard. "I want to see Ginny," he stated with a grim expression on his face.

"And do you have permission?" Michael asked haughtily, never one to be bossed around by silly young men.

Harry smiled pleasantly at him. "Oh, I don't think we need to worry about permission."

Michael felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and he was conscious of a sudden urge to step backwards. He resisted the impulse, reminding himself that there was no reason to be frightened of a boy who thought himself the hero of the world.

"I don't care if you're the Muggle queen of England herself," Richard interposed. "You ain't getting in that chamber unless you have permission from the big man."

Harry's eyes darted to Richard, narrowing just a fraction as the irritation he felt briefly manifested itself on his face.

"Do you know who I am?" Harry demanded coldly.

"Aye, but I have my orders, sonny, and no one, especially those close to the prisoner, are to go in the chamber without permission. Now move along, boy, before I make you!"

Harry forced a smile to his lips, clearly trying to keep his temper under control. Michael once again found his equanimity disturbed by the expression on that seemingly innocent face. The boy looked harmless enough, but there was some hidden quality lurking about him that was inexplicably disconcerting. Michael thought he could almost understand why Hamish had been so eager to get away from Harry when faced with that unnerving presence.

"I think you should leave now, Potter," Michael said warily. "You wouldn't want to cause any trouble, would you?"

Harry stared at the two men through furious emerald eyes. For a moment, Michael wondered if they really would have to fight the boy off, but then Harry let out a soft laugh and relaxed into a less hostile stance.

"Of course not," Harry said with a mocking smile. "I'll just be on my way."

He turned on his heel and headed back towards the collection of tents. Michael watched the young man's progress with wary eyes, a small frown hovering at his mouth.

"There's something wrong with that boy," he observed.

Richard snorted. "Well, he has been in a magic-induced coma for the past four years. Even the sanest person would go off his rocker after that."

"No." Michael shook his head. "I don't think he's mad. It's something else." He looked at the bulky man next to him. "Didn't you sense it?"

"Sense what?"

Michael frowned. "I don't know – I can't explain it – but whatever it was, I don't like it."

"Ah, you're probably just imagining things. Now can we talk about something else? You're giving me the jitters."

"Yeah . . . sure."

The two men fell silent. Even the prisoner was silent, but the moment of peace was anything but comfortable for Michael. He knew that what he had seen in the black-haired boy was not a figment of his imagination. But what did it mean?

The prisoner suddenly started up her cursing and demands to be let out again, and Michael could only sigh in resignation as Richard responded in turn with his own furious muttering. So much for getting off guard duty early. He almost wished that Potter had not woken from his four-year-coma now, for the thought of remaining outside the chamber with Richard Tibbons was not a happy one. However, he did wonder what would happen to the girl now that she was no longer going to be executed. The rumours had already started about her demon-child and what it would mean for the camp. People were afraid, and fear did strange things to the human mind. Even with Potter as her protector, it was unlikely that she would last long.

Michael reached into his pocket and pulled out another cigarette. He calmly ignited the tip with his wand and then placed the smoke in his mouth, breathing out a cloud of grey as he exhaled. His eyes once more drifted to the sky, and he noted that its bruised face had darkened to an ominous black, barely containing the storm that would soon be unleashed.

Somehow, he knew there would be no cleansing balm in those raindrops today.

**OOOO**

Ginny stepped back from the glass wall of her cell and sat down on the bed. Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks, renewing the dried tracks of the old. Her voice was hoarse from shouting, and it was with a cold sense of disappointment that she realised that no one was going to come to her aid.

She didn't understand it. These were her friends – her allies. Why were they doing nothing to help her? Why were they keeping her in this cell as if she were some dangerous animal that needed to be caged? They _knew_ her; they had laughed and joked with her, yet now, when she needed them most, they simply turned their backs on her as if she were nothing to them at all. She could keep screaming for days but she knew that the people outside these walls would remain deaf to her pleas.

The redhead hugged her arms to herself as she slowly began to rock backwards and forwards on the bed, her throat choked with dry sobs. She had clung to the hope of being rescued for so long that to have that faith suddenly destroyed left her feeling helplessly lost. Even when she had overheard the guards mention that Scrimgeour wanted her killed, she had still refused to believe that the rest of the council members could abandon her to such a fate. But there was no denying the brutal truth. She had been betrayed, and with that knowledge came the sickening dread of what would happen to her now. Unlike Voldemort, who had actually wanted something from her, these people desired nothing. There was no saying what they would do, especially since they had already sunk so low as to place her in the Isolation Chamber and keep her under guard.

Ginny clenched her eyes shut, holding back the tears that continuously blurred her vision. After everything that had happened, and after all of the sacrifices that Narcissa had made to even get her here, she could not believe that this was all that had been gained. She was worse off now than what she had been at the manor, and that was with Draco pushing her to the brink of insanity, and with Voldemort threatening to kill her at every given moment. It was a cruel joke, and one that seemed to belong more to a nightmare than reality, but the pain in her heart reminded her that this was real. She really was alone now.

"This wasn't how it was supposed to be," Ginny whispered bitterly. "You were supposed to help me, Remus. Why? _Why_ did you betray me?"

She thought of the gentle-faced werewolf, and a hate like she had never felt before welled up inside her, twisting her insides with its malice and darkness. She hoped they all suffered. She hoped that Voldemort came here and wiped them all out so that they could never hurt her again. They would be the ones in pain then. They would be the ones watching their loved ones slaughtered before their eyes, and then they too would die, and there would be nothing left but a mass of rotting corpses for the vultures to feed on.

Ginny suddenly realised the enormity of what she was doing. She trembled in horror, sickened by her own twisted thoughts. Was this what she was becoming, then? Was her heart losing the pale shades that had once painted it, consumed by swirling storms of madness and hate?

Perhaps the guards were right. Perhaps she _was_ insane. She didn't know anymore. She just wanted it all to stop. She felt dazed and lost in her skin, as if she were drowning in memories that were no longer her own. Everything she had thought she knew about herself was slipping away from her, and she was afraid. She did not want to be like those monsters. She was supposed to be good.

A crippling pain suddenly twisted inside her, and she let out a sharp cry as tears of real physical anguish burned her eyes. The contractions had started again, but this was the worst she had felt yet.

Ginny heard the chamber door open, and then one of the guards was walking to her cell – the one called Michael. She was still whimpering softly to herself, but she looked up when he drew closer and glared at him.

"What do you want?" she snarled.

"What's wrong?" he asked, unfazed by her less than amiable welcome.

"What's it to you? It's not as if you care about me."

"I don't," he agreed, "but you are under my protection right now, so I have no choice but to ensure your welfare."

Something about his words seemed to strike a chord in her mind, and she stared at him closely, wondering why she should feel this strange sense of familiarity with him. He was not particularly handsome; he was as thinly built as he was thin featured, and she knew that she had certainly never met him before. No, it was something about the way he carried himself that seemed familiar to her; something about the arrogant gleam in his colourless eyes, and the slight sneer that curved his lips. Combine that with his dispassionate words, and she suddenly saw in her mind the image of a handsome blond, whose cold grey eyes had regarded her with that same mocking glint, and whose taunts had been no less callous.

"You remind me of him," Ginny said softly, and she looked both pained and pleased by this discovery.

"Remind you of who?" Michael demanded, momentarily diverted.

"Draco."

"Don't compare me to that monster!"

Ginny gave a twisted smile. "Perhaps it is you who are the monster. Perhaps we are all monsters." She laughed a harsh, grating laugh. "At least _he_ never pretended to be good. But you – you make me sick."

He ignored her taunt and instead asked her why she had cried out before. She looked away, and for a moment she looked like the frightened girl she truly was, and not the wild, bitter creature she had become.

"It's almost time," she said quietly.

"What?"

"Lara told me the contractions would come more frequently and get more painful as the birth drew closer. That one just took me by surprise."

"The demon will be born soon, then?"

"Demon?" She laughed and placed her hands against her grotesquely swollen stomach. "Well, perhaps it is a demon."

Ginny brooded quietly to herself for a moment, but Michael was no longer paying attention to her. He was doing some quick thinking. If she was right in assuming the birth would be soon, which he had no doubt that she was, then life at the camp was about to get very ugly. She had brought division to their camp, for there were those who were afraid and wanted her killed along with her demon-child, while there were also those who wished to harness her power and use it for their own gain. Then, of course, there were those few who clung to their morals and felt that, either way, it was wrong to keep her locked up or even contemplate killing her just because her child would be born with powerful dark magic.

Michael frowned to himself. If they weren't careful, they could have another war on their hands. He had already witnessed the destruction of a refugee camp because of internal disputes, and he had no desire to see it happen again. The girl was nothing but a liability to them. If they didn't do something about her soon, she could very well destroy them.

He looked back at the redhead and noted dispassionately that she was crying. Not a sound escaped her lips, but the tears continued to roll unchecked down her cheeks. It was somehow more pitiful to watch than if had she sobbed loudly. She started rocking backwards and forwards, and he could see her lips moving as she muttered feverishly to herself, though the words were too soft for him to hear. From his perspective, she looked completely unhinged.

Ginny was too lost in her own thoughts to realise that he was staring at her. Knowing that she would soon give birth had started a new level of panic inside her already fragile mind. People feared and despised her because of this child; they had betrayed her and placed her in this prison, neither caring for her innocence nor any previous ties of affection that she might have claimed with them. Now that child would soon be born, and Ginny had no doubt that just as Voldemort had wished to dispose of her as soon as her use was up, so too would these people wish to remove her before she could present a danger to them.

A chill crept down her spine as Death made his uncomfortable presence known. Never had she realised the danger of her situation as she did in that moment, and it suddenly became imperative that she escape, no matter how hopeless her case may be.

Her eyes darted up to Michael's, and the raw desperation she felt was plain to see on her face. "Please," she begged in a choked voice. "If you have any feeling at all, _please_ help me get out of here!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"But they'll kill me!" she cried, near hysterical. "I know they will!"

Michael smiled grimly. "That's what I'm counting on."

The colour drained from her face.

"Don't look so worried," he said mockingly. "Perhaps Potter will come to your rescue again."

"Potter?" She stood up from the bed and placed her hands against the glass as she looked at him earnestly. "What do you mean by 'Potter'? Is Harry awake?"

Michael walked away.

"Hey!" Ginny screamed, banging on the glass. "I'm talking to you!" She banged on the wall again. "_Hey!"_

He ignored her shouts and exited the chamber. Ginny gave a strangled scream and smashed her fist against the glass wall. Her hand throbbed with pain, and she cradled it against her chest, crying softly to herself as she sank to her knees. She wasn't sure how long she sat there. Her tears eventually ran dry, and the stabbing pains in her chest had long since faded to be replaced with a chilling nothingness. She did not tremble, but then she was not calm either. She was simply lost – lost to everything and everyone, and there was nothing in the bleak walls of her tiny prison to reassure her. Michael had mentioned that a 'Potter' had come to her rescue, but Ginny didn't dare to believe that Harry was indeed awake and trying to help her. She had had her hopes crushed too many times now, and she wasn't sure that she could handle the disappointment again.

The steel doors to the chamber opened again, and Ginny stood up, watching with wary eyes as Rufus Scrimgeour and Michael entered. They walked calmly towards her cell, which they also opened, and then they were closing in on her. Her eyes darted to the wands in their hands, and she took an involuntary step backwards, her heart pounding erratically in her chest. Death smiled at her from their faces, and she knew then that it was all over.

"Well, Miss Weasley," Rufus said coolly. "Your little friend may have stopped the councilmen from ordering your execution, but I, for one, do not plan to see this camp go up in flames because of some stupid moral qualm."

"Killing me won't change anything," she retorted with a boldness she did not feel.

"Perhaps not, but I'd rather not take the risk either way."

Ginny swallowed as he pointed his wand at her face.

"Don't take it personally, my dear," Rufus said with pleasant smile. "It's all for the greater good."

Her instincts told her to run or at least to fight back, but she knew that there was no point in putting up a struggle. Michael had his wand trained on her to stop her from doing exactly that. She would be dead before she even reached the ex-minister's wand, let alone the door, and it was with sickening terror that she realised there really was no escape. There would be no tomorrow for her now – no chance to correct the wrongs she had made. She had failed.

Ginny clenched her hands into fists as she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable curse that would come. Two words were spoken, the last words she would ever hear, then a bright light flashed before her closed eyelids, and she could feel the heat of the spell coming towards her. Suddenly there was an anguished yell, and Ginny found herself on the ground, the breath completely knocked out of her lungs.

"NO!" Rufus bellowed.

The weight that had been holding her down lifted. Everything after that became a confused mixture of shouting and flashing lights. Ginny tried to sit up, still feeling very disorientated after her fall, but a firm hand pushed her roughly back to the floor.

"Stay down!" a familiar voice ordered.

She looked up instinctively, but the man had already turned his back on her so that she could not see his face. He fought with a viciousness that was almost frightening to behold, but she was too dizzy with the realisation that she was not dead to consider why that should matter to her. Someone had saved her. Someone had cared.

The fighting between the three men intensified as her two assailants closed in on the lone figure protecting her, and there was no time for her to wonder about the identity of her rescuer. Something dropped to the ground with a heavy thud next to her, and she turned her face to see Michael staring blankly back at her from lifeless eyes. She started back in shock, unnerved at being so close to a dead body. Her hand brushed against someone's leg, and she let out a small whimper of fright, not sure if the person was a friend or foe. The cell and chamber was so small that it was difficult to know what was going on with all the cloaked figures fusing into a black mass before her eyes, but it sounded like there were more than just three people fighting now, even with Michael's death.

She urged her body to move, but she felt oddly numb, as if she had just been dumped in a pool of icy water. Red and green blazed before her eyes, clashing with each other in a wild dance that seemed to have no formation or meaning, and yet a life could be snuffed out as easily as a candle if one of those green lights went wrong. Her heart quickened in her chest at the thought, and she scrabbled backwards, desperate to put some distance between herself and the promised death those curses presented in her wandless state.

A hand suddenly latched around her arm and hauled her to her feet. "Run!" the same voice from before shouted, and this time she recognised whom it belonged to with a small sob of relief.

Ginny didn't need to be told twice, but she was hampered by her pregnant state and so her rescuer had to practically drag her from the chamber. There was no respite for them outside. More wizards and witches were swarming towards them, no doubt attracted by the shouting. Their cruel faces were no less recognisable to her than if they had donned the white masks of the Death Eaters, and it was strange to think that those same people, who now resembled nothing so much to her as a plague of ravenous locusts, were once considered her friends and allies. They marched towards her with ruthless determination under a black sky, and their feet pounded against the dusty ground like a war drum, thrumming deep within the earth. Ginny realised with horror that she would soon be completely surrounded.

"We'll never make it," Ginny cried, unable to stop the fear from creeping into her voice. She looked up at her rescuer, terror and something much deeper shining in her tear-filled eyes. "Draco, what are we going to do?"

"Come on," the blond ordered, urging her forwards again.

She stumbled after him, trying to keep up with his faster pace as best as she could. Rain splattered on her cheeks as the sky finally released its fury, and her eyes widened as she realised that Draco was leading the two of them straight into the middle of their attackers.

"Are you crazy?" she demanded. "You can't just run right into them!"

Draco paid no attention to her and continued to pull her ruthlessly forward. Hexes and curses flew towards them from the wall of human figures, but Draco easily deflected them with his magic while physically dodging those that escaped his shield. He was an unstoppable force, and she doubted she would have ever been able to keep up with him had he not kept a firm grasp on her arm. Not once did he slow down, and soon they were charging right into their attackers. Ginny felt no less vulnerable than a ship crashing into the jagged rocks of a cliff, but the witches and wizards that were lined up to stop them were too shocked by such a bold move to react in time. By then, it was too late, for now the two renegades were in the midst of their assailants and could hide within the swarm.

Ginny suddenly realised the beauty of Draco's plan. He could attack freely, for everyone was an enemy to them, but their position forced the others to check their attacks and hesitate to cast anything more dangerous than Stupefy for fear that they would hurt one of their own. This hesitation was all that Draco needed. He cut through their opponents without mercy, killing any who got in their way and sparing no thought for the dead as he dragged Ginny forward over the fallen bodies that tumbled like dominoes before them, the bones crunching underneath their feet with each desperate step they took. It was sickening, but her mind was too blinded by fear to really register what was happening. The world seemed to exist in blurred snatches to her, orchestrated by a loud roaring in her ears that was a strange amalgamation of desperate screams and her own violently pounding heart.

Draco suddenly let out a gasp of pain and stumbled forward, dragging Ginny along with him, and jolting her from her daze of disorientation. She heard him curse under his breath and saw the blood on his hand where he had instinctively clutched his stomach. Their eyes met for a moment, hers filled with concern, but he simply tugged on her arm again, silently ordering her to keep moving. She obeyed him wordlessly, knowing, just like him, that their only hope of survival was to break through the blue barrier and Disapparate to safety before they were overwhelmed. She tried not to think about what would happen if they didn't make it.

The swarm of attackers thinned as they broke through the brunt of the crowd and entered the more residential area of the camp. Children that had been playing near their family tents stopped to stare with fear and curiosity before their parents snatched them away, while those chasing the two renegades fumbled and hesitated in their attack, not wanting to hurt any innocent bystanders, despite their desire to take down the redhead and her Death Eater helper. Draco took the opportunity to slip his dagger out from its secret place in his sleeve and shoved it in Ginny's hand. She clutched the cold metal in her hands with numb surprise, not really certain what he was expecting her to do with it.

"Kill anyone who gets too close!" Draco yelled. "And watch your back!"

Ginny nodded her head to show she understood, though she looked increasingly pale. Magic was not as effective when used for close combat fighting, and she knew that was the only reason they were still alive. However, now their opponents were getting smarter, having lost their initial shock, and that meant the risk of being hurt was drastically increased. With Draco's dagger, she could stop those who would seek to overwhelm them by physical force. At least, that was the idea.

The two drove on beyond the sea of tents and once more found themselves in an open clearing of dusty earth, which separated the residential area from the exit. There was no need for their assailants to hesitate now, and suddenly she and Draco were back to being pushed around by a confused mass of bodies.

Ginny no longer had time to worry about whether the dagger would actually help them or not, or whether she even had the courage to use it. The refugees were getting more vicious, blinded by their own rage and lust for revenge after Draco's slaughtering rampage, which even now continued as he carved a path through their bodies with the killing curse. Ginny slashed wildly at those who managed to miss the deadly jets of green, the blade in her hand slicing through human flesh as if it were no more than butter, and taking her by surprise more than once with the sickening ease that it disfigured those who sought to hurt her. Blood splattered on her face, stinging her nostrils with the metallic stench, and mixed with her tears as she stabbed the nameless and sometimes recognisable faces that threatened her again and again. She didn't even realise she was sobbing until it occurred to her frightened brain that the broken sounds rasping in her ears were coming from her own lips.

Every bloody second that passed, she was certain that she and Draco would be killed or at least hit with an incapacitating curse to stop their progress. Behind her was a sea of corpses, any of which could have easily been her had one spell slipped past the blond's defences. They had both been grabbed more than once during the struggle, and though a quick slash of her dagger had put a stop to these attacks, one wrong move was all it had needed to have them both join the fallen. Somehow, though, they had managed to survive and keep running. Ginny dared for a moment to hope that they might even make it to the barrier, but then more wizards and witches flocked towards them from the barracks to join those already closing in from behind the two.

It was the image of a nightmare, and it almost seemed to her that the mob of wizards and witches had grown into giants and fused with the obsidian clouds as they marched towards her like a violent storm, their faces blurred of all individuality from the harsh jets of rain that continued to pour down. She could not take much longer of this. She was exhausted and in pain, and she could tell by Draco's slackened pace and ragged breathing that he was no less shattered.

Fresh tears streamed down her face as she realised just how futile their situation truly was. They may have broken through one squadron of soldiers – and even that had been a pure miracle – but two? It was impossible.

"Damn it!" Draco growled as he stared at the swarm of cloaked figures moving towards them. "What the hell is Lara waiting for?"

As if on cue, a blinding flash of light suddenly ripped through the sky like a bolt of lightning. Instead of fading, however, it only spread until it surrounded the whole camp as if to form another barrier. Ginny stopped running and covered her eyes, unable to bear the intensity of it, but Draco dragged her ruthlessly forwards.

"Keep running!" he ordered.

She stumbled after him, completely blind to everything around her as he pulled her along. It was a terrifying experience, for she was never sure whether someone might try to reach out and grab her, but Draco seemed to know where he was going and led her through the throng of people without mishap. The light began to fade, and Ginny felt the burning in her eyes lessen, allowing her to see once more. She realised that they were now beyond the second squadron and were barely ten metres from the blue barrier.

"Over there!" someone shouted. "Quick! They're getting away!"

Ginny saw the jet of purple light come hurtling towards them and shouted a cry of warning at Draco. He turned, the words of a spell to block the curse already on his lips, but then the light was suddenly blasted away by what appeared to be a ball of corporeal wind. They both turned in surprise and saw Lara lowering her wand.

"Hurry!" Lara urged. "Get through the barrier!"

Ginny felt the insistent tug on her arm and half-stumbled, half-ran as Draco pulled her towards the blue shield stopping them from Disapparating. She took one last look back at the camp before they passed through the barrier and, as if some magnetic force was guiding her gaze, she saw a young man with messy black hair standing not far from her, watching her with murderous emerald eyes. She didn't have time to consider why this was important; her vision suddenly swam with blue as Draco's grip tightened on her arm.

And then they were gone.

**OOOO**

It was still raining in the woods where the three had taken shelter after their bloody escape from the Refugee Camp. Ginny watched quietly as Lara and Draco argued, not really interested in speaking to either of them. The relief she had felt upon being rescued had all but faded now that she was safe, only to be replaced with feelings of guilt and sorrow. Narcissa was dead, murdered by Voldemort, and even the knowledge that the Dark Lord had also been killed could not comfort her. She had loved Draco's mother, and she mourned for the blonde deeply.

She looked at Draco and wondered how he had dealt with Narcissa's death. He had barely spoken a word to her since they had escaped the camp, though he was being very vocal with Lara now. He was furious with the brunette for taking so long to help them, which was not surprising considering the amount of times he and Ginny had almost been killed while fleeing to the barrier.

Ginny lowered her gaze to her hands – hands that were now clean of the blood that had once stained them. Her stomach twisted sickeningly as she the thought of all the people that had been killed at the camp because of her. It had been easy to ignore the reality of what she was doing while in the heat of battle, but now there was no fear egging her on, and she only felt dirty at the thought of all those lives she had helped extinguish. Draco was used to killing – it was what he had been trained to do – but she had never killed anyone intentionally before in her life. Now she couldn't even count the number of people whose lives she had taken with her hands.

She tried to comfort herself with the thought that she'd had no choice but to kill – that they would have probably killed her if she had not escaped them anyway. However, Ginny knew what really bothered her was not the fact that she'd had to kill those people; it was the fact that she had _wanted_ to kill them. She had _wanted_ to punish them for betraying her, and she had succeeded. It was just like in the cell, except this time she had actually got her wish.

Ginny shivered, though the day was by no means cold, and hugged her arms more closely to herself. Draco's gaze shifted towards her, and for a moment she thought she saw a look of understanding come into his grey eyes. Then he turned his attention back to Lara, and the moment was gone.

"Enough of your excuses, Lara," Draco said sharply. "I'm tired and want to rest. I'm sure Ginevra feels the same."

"Very well," Lara relented. "We rest here until nightfall."

Draco nodded and sat down next to Ginny, wincing a little in pain as he settled himself more comfortably on the mossy ground. The redhead stared at him in concern, noting for the first time just how pale he actually was.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

He frowned and pulled his hand away from his stomach, and Ginny saw that it was sticky with blood. She gasped as she remembered the wound he had received while they had been running. She promptly ripped open his robe and pushed up his shirt to examine the damage. There was blood everywhere – so much, in fact, that it was hard to determine where he was actually hurt. She used her dress to wipe some of it away, and then she finally saw the ugly gash that clawed deep into his skin and which even now was still oozing crimson.

Draco gave a shaky laugh. "Guess it was worse than I thought."

That was when he fainted.

"Lara!" Ginny cried desperately, never once removing her eyes from the chalky-white face of the man beside her. "I need you!"

The brunette came rushing over, her eyes widening as she saw Draco's unconscious form.

"What happened?" she demanded, kneeling beside Ginny. "Is he okay?"

"He's only fainted, but he's lost a lot of blood. Even if I do heal his wound now, he won't survive unless he gets a blood-replenishing potion – and soon."

"What do we do?"

Ginny shook her head. "I was hoping you would be able to tell me that."

Lara frowned to herself for a moment, and then a thoughtful look came to her face. She reached into Draco's robe and pulled out his wand, which she then handed to Ginny.

"You heal his wound. I'll get the blood-replenishing potion."

"But, Lara—"

"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing."

Lara Disapparated with a loud crack, leaving Ginny alone with the mortally wounded blond. His breathing was too erratic to be natural, but it was not the deathly rattle of a man about to die. He still had time yet, though he was very weak.

Ginny stared down at the wand in her hand and realised that she had the blond completely in her power. It was a strange feeling. Draco had always seemed so unstoppable to her, but now he just looked vulnerable and young – almost pathetic. She could kill him right now if she wanted to. She didn't even have to do anything; she simply had to leave his wound unhealed and he would soon bleed to death. It would be all too easy, but then murder was easy. She had discovered that today, for good or bad.

She wondered if letting the blond die now would be any worse than what she had done at the camp. She had killed those people in self-defence – or at least that was what she told herself – but would it be different with Draco? Would his blood still stain her hands if she simply let his life slowly slip away under her watching eyes?

Ginny shook her head, banishing such morbid thoughts from her mind. This was not the time to let herself be distracted. She pulled herself together and started healing him as best as she could without the proper potions. Spells could only do so much for a deep gash like this, but she was at least able to clean and seal the wound. Once she had finished with that, she tore a strip of material from her dress and used it as a makeshift bandage. It was not particularly clean, though she had done her best to sterilise it with magic, but it was better than nothing.

"There," she said once she was done. "That should keep you going for a while."

She cleaned the blood off her hands with his wand and then leaned back against the tree she was sitting under. It was quiet in the wood – too quiet for Ginny's tastes. She hoped that Lara came back with the blood-replenishing potion soon. She did not like the thought of being left here with only her own tormented mind for company.

Her eyes flicked back to the blond, and she felt a small stab of fear run through her at the thought that they might be too late. There had been many times when she had wished him dead, but those feelings had all but faded now. It was hard to hate him knowing that he had risked his life for her and had defied a whole camp full of enemies just to save her. He was cruel and had used her mercilessly while she was under his care, but he had still helped her when no one else would. For that she could only be grateful, even if she did suspect that he had acted more on his own agenda than from any real sense of selflessness.

Ginny gripped his hand tightly in hers as she listened to the rain grow heavier around them. She was not sure if she was trying to give comfort to him or herself, but the warmth of his hand reassured her that there was still hope. Only when he turned cold would she know it was too late to save him. Until then, she would simply wait.

**OOOO**

It was almost nightfall when Lara finally returned. The brunette looked pale and tired, but she smiled when she saw Ginny and held up a small bottle of crimson liquid.

"I got it."

"Thank Merlin," Ginny exclaimed in relief. "I was beginning to fear that it would be too late."

Lara handed Ginny the bottle and then glanced down at the prostrate blond. "How is he?"

"He woke up not long after you left, but the loss of blood made him delirious so I ended up putting him back to sleep."

Lara nodded and watched as Ginny calmly poured the contents of the bottle down the blond's throat. At first he gave no reaction, but then he started coughing and tried to swat the redhead's hands away.

"I was afraid he would wake," Ginny muttered.

She tipped his head back while holding his struggling body down, forcing him to swallow the last of the potion. Thankfully, he was too weak to be of any real problem to her, and he soon relaxed in her arms as another wave of dizziness swept over him.

"He's fainted again," Ginny observed with a healer's detachment. "I expect he'll probably sleep for the rest of the night."

"Then we shall have to stay here," Lara sighed. "I had hoped to find a safer place for us to rest, but I guess it can't be helped."

"Do you think they'll still be looking us?"

"They'll be looking for us alright. Not just those at the camp either. The Death Eaters know that the Dark Lord is dead and want their revenge. I ran into a few of them when I was looking for the blood-replenishing potion. It seems that Bellatrix has made herself the head of the Death Eaters and has ordered the capture and execution of Draco and myself. They're looking for you too, though I doubt any of them really understood what the Dark Lord wanted with you."

"Then we really are alone in this," Ginny murmured as she looked down at the sleeping man in her arms.

"I'm afraid so."

Both women fell silent as they brooded over this revelation. It seemed to Ginny that the whole world was against her now. It occurred to her then that she had no idea why the two ex-Death Eaters had come to her rescue in the first place. After she had tried to thank him, Draco had told her rather brusquely that it had been Lara's idea to save her. Surely Lara must have known what such an action would mean for her own safety?

Ginny stared somewhat warily at the woman beside her. She knew that Lara was powerful and had the ability to sense things in both the present and the future. There was no way she could not have known what was going to happen – not if she had really wanted to know. So why would Lara have risked so much just to help her? Ginny had not forgotten the conversation they had shared before she had fled Malfoy manor. Lara had appeared loyal to Voldemort then, but now she knew the brunette had never been loyal to the crimson-eyed man. So who was Lara loyal to? And what did she even want?

"Don't trouble your thoughts over such matters," Lara said softly. "I have no intention of harming you."

Ginny realised with a jolt of panic that the brunette must have been using Legilimency on her.

"How can I trust you?" Ginny asked, more suspicious than ever.

"You can't, of course," Lara admitted with a shrug. "But then what choice do you have? You'll never survive out there alone."

Ginny fell silent, knowing this to be true.

Lara smiled in understanding. "I'm not so bad, Ginevra. Whatever you may choose to believe, I do have your best interests at heart."

"I want to believe you," Ginny replied slowly. "I just don't know if I can."

"Think what you will. It makes no difference." Lara settled herself more comfortably on the ground. "You should get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Ginny nodded in resignation, knowing that she would get nothing more out of the older woman. She lowered Draco gently onto the mossy earth and then she curled up on the ground next to him. Though she may not trust Lara, she was glad that the brunette had been there to get the blood-replenishing potion. Waiting with the blond dying next to her had been a terrifying experience, especially not knowing when or even if Lara would return. She wondered how the dark-haired witch had got the potion, but she supposed it didn't really matter. All that mattered was that they were alive – _all_ of them were alive – and, by tomorrow, Draco would be well again.

Ginny closed her hand once more around Draco's limp one, feeling the reassuring warmth of his blood pulsing into her own. Whatever it was that Lara intended for her, the redhead could at least take comfort in the fact that he was here with her. He may not be the most trustworthy person she had ever met, but she at least knew that he would protect her – even from Lara if he had to. After all, he was just like her now. They both had nothing left in the world. Nothing, that is, except each other.

She huddled closer to him and, after a moment of hesitation, wrapped his arms around her. No doubt by tomorrow he would be back to pushing her away and treating her just as brusquely as ever, but in the meantime he was helpless to rebuff her, and she would make the most of that. He was the only person who could make her feel safe now, as ironic as that was. After everything that had happened that day, and after all the horrible things that she had seen and done, she needed to feel that there was at least one person she could turn to for comfort in her nightmarish reality.

For one night, whether he liked it or not, Draco would give that to her.

**Author Note:**

Many thanks to Aerileigh for all her help in going over this chapter. I couldn't have done it without you. ^_^


	14. Hunted

**A/N: I know it has taken me forever to get this chapter written, but I've found it really hard to get inspiration (or even time) to write this story lately. However, I am still determined to complete it this year, so hopefully I'll be back to updating more frequently soon. **

**Thank you for all your patience! And a special thank you to Aerileigh for all your help in going over this chapter. ^_^ **

**Hunted**

The sky was a bloody red, veiling the world in crimson. Remus watched the group of grim-faced wizards throw more bodies onto the fire, joining the lifeless forms that were already being consumed by the flames. It was hard to imagine that a single wizard and witch had caused so much carnage – so much, in fact, that there had been too many bodies to bury. Creating a pyre for the dead was all they could do to stop disease from spreading, but the stench of burnt flesh that now filled the camp was far from desirable.

"You look troubled, Remus."

He turned to see Harry staring at him. "A lot of lives were lost today," Remus said quietly. "There is much to be troubled about."

"You're right," Harry agreed, "but I don't think that's really what's bothering you."

Remus let out a small sigh and glanced back at the fire. "Everyone has been calling what happened today a massacre. Ginny has been branded a traitor, and Malfoy a dangerous killer who needs to be destroyed." He frowned at the young man beside him. "But what if _we_ were the ones in the wrong?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I was the one who found Ginny when she first came back to the camp. She never betrayed us, Harry; the only mistake she made was to trust that we would protect her. And I—"

He broke off, pained as he remembered that he was the one who had taken her to the Isolation Chamber.

"You were only doing what you thought was right," Harry said soothingly. "You couldn't have known what was going to happen."

"We were going to execute her, Harry," Remus whispered. "If you hadn't stopped Rufus, she would be dead right now."

"Perhaps it would have been for the best."

Remus glanced back at the bodies withering in the flames. "Maybe," he said softly.

He knew that nothing could change what had happened today. Justified or not, Ginny was now the enemy. But Remus could not forget that image of the witch and wizard charging towards them with nothing but a wand and dagger for protection. The odds had been against the two, yet they had triumphed. He knew that they would have been considered heroes if they had been anyone else. Instead, they were branded murderers. Strange how the world worked.

Remus sighed and turned away from the fire. "Do you know what Scrimgeour is planning to do now?"

"We don't have to worry about Scrimgeour any longer."

"What do you mean?" Remus asked, puzzled.

"He's dead."

"Dead? But I could have sworn—"

"They found his body in the Isolation Chamber," Harry explained dispassionately. "Malfoy must have killed him when he was helping Ginny escape."

"This will cause problems with the councilmen. They'll never be able to decide who should replace him as our leader."

Harry allowed himself a small smile. "The councilmen want me to take over."

"You? But, Harry, you're—"

"I'm the Chosen One, remember? It's my destiny to lead the world to salvation."

Remus frowned. For all the years that he had known Harry, he could not remember the boy ever embracing his destiny in such a way, let alone calling himself the Chosen One.

"What will you do?" Remus asked warily. "Ginny, Malfoy, and that woman are still out there somewhere."

"I know. I've already sent a search party out for them."

"And when they're found?"

Harry's eyes glittered oddly in the firelight. "They're to be brought back here for trial. Don't get me wrong," he continued, seeing the troubled look on the older man's face. "I wish Ginny hadn't betrayed us as well, but we can't change what happened. She will be found, and she will be punished along with her Death Eater friends."

Remus frowned but said nothing. He knew that hunting Ginny and putting her on trial was the natural thing to do, but he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of disquiet about it all the same. If they were really doing what was right, then why did he feel so guilty?

He stared up at the sky where the moon was just beginning to reveal its silvery face. Soon the world would succumb to twilight, cradled in shadows until the sun rose again.

He wondered if tomorrow would see another bloody sky.

**OOOO**

Draco was aware of two things when he awoke the next morning. The first was that he felt as if he'd been hit with a dozen Cruciatus curses; the second was that there was something soft and surprisingly warm pressed up against his body. He opened his eyes and stared down at the abundance of red tickling his chin. A small sigh escaped his lips, but he simply lay there for a moment, too tired to protest at her effrontery.

His memories of the previous day were tangled in incoherency, yet he had the uncomfortable suspicion that he somehow owed his life to the witch curled up against him. He brought his hand to his chest, brushing his fingers against the makeshift bandage that Ginny had made from her dress. The skin felt tight underneath the cotton, as if it were being pinched together with tweezers, though the wound itself had been healed. He knew it would leave a scar, though. Everything scarred these days.

A shadow passed over his face. He frowned and turned his gaze upwards to stare at the sky. A thick cloud, swelling with purples and blacks, had positioned itself over his head, blocking the sun. It was going to be another stormy day.

"Perfect," he mumbled. "Even the weather is against us."

Ginny made a sleepy noise and tried to huddle closer against him. Draco narrowed his eyes and was about to shove her away when he saw her face. She looked exhausted, as if she too had been on the brink of death. He frowned and then, with uncharacteristic gentleness, he shifted her away so that he could stand. She made another sleepy noise, but she did not wake. He watched her sleep for a moment and then glanced around the clearing of trees. The fire had long since died, leaving a few smouldering embers. There was no sign of Lara.

Draco crossed to the stream and splashed some water on his face, hoping to wake his dulled senses. He could see his reflection on the surface, distorting with the ripples. It was a shock to see how pale he looked – a pallor that was only heightened by the dark circles under his eyes. He looked like a corpse, and he knew it wasn't just because he had almost died yesterday.

Too much had happened, even for him. It was all just a little overwhelming.

His eyes began to sting with an unpleasant burning sensation, and he reached up his hand and was surprised to see something wet glistening on his fingertip. It took him a moment to realise what he was looking at, and then he let out a soft laugh, though he was far from amused. It had been so long since he had cried. He had almost forgotten what it felt like.

There was no real reason for his tears – just the brutal exhaustion of a boy who had seen and done too much. At any other time, he would have despised showing such weakness, but right now he could not see the point in trying to be strong. No amount of strength could bring his mother back. No amount of power could stop the gnawing ache in his chest.

He knew he was helpless, and he was afraid.

Draco sighed and placed his head in his hands. He didn't know how long he sat there like that, but then he heard the sound of footsteps crunching towards him. He lifted his face and saw Ginny standing somewhat shyly in front of him.

"How are you feeling?" she asked with a tentative smile.

"Fine," he said shortly.

She sighed in a resigned way, which puzzled him. It was as if she had been expecting the answer, yet the warm glow in her eyes immediately dulled, and the light flush that had infused her cheeks when she first saw him was replaced with its usual sickly pallor. He didn't know why, but something about the shift made him feel strangely disappointed.

Ginny reached into the pocket of her (now ripped) dress and pulled out a thin piece of wood. He recognised it as his own hawthorn wand, and was about to demand what the hell she was playing at by taking it, when she simply offered it back to him.

"I used it to heal you last night," she explained. "Don't worry, I wasn't going to steal it."

Draco stood up and snatched the wand from her outstretched hand, but not before he saw an amused smile touch her eyes. He shifted rigidly and looked the other way, irritated that she had read him so easily.

Ginny glanced about the clearing. "I wonder where Lara is. Have you seen her?"

Draco shook his head. "She was gone when I woke up."

The redhead was quiet for a moment. "Do you trust her?"

He laughed. "I've been asking myself that for the past three years." He shook his head, and his expression went suddenly grave. "I don't know, Ginevra. I honestly don't know. But, if it comes to that, how do I know if I can trust you?"

Ginny gave an inelegant snort. "After everything you've done to me, don't you think I should be the one asking _you_ that?"

"If you're expecting an apology, you're not going to get it," he said bluntly.

"I'm sure the very fabric of the world would collapse if you ever did give me an apology."

Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her. She was becoming rather impertinent now that she was no longer his captive. He wasn't sure that he liked it.

"Anyway," she continued, giving him a wry smile. "It doesn't matter if you trust me or not. I'm the pregnant one without a wand, remember?"

"Experience has taught me to think otherwise," he responded dryly.

Ginny looked him squarely in the eye. "I fought against you because you were holding me captive. I won't fight you anymore."

He didn't need to know Legilimency to understand her unspoken words. It was obvious that she was relying on him for protection. There really was no point for her to oppose him any longer. She needed him to survive.

And yet, realising this only made him all the more aware of how far he had sunk in the world. Here he was protecting a Weasley – a girl who he had always considered the enemy, and who had done nothing but cause him trouble since she had come into his life again. His mother was dead because of her, the Death Eaters were hunting him because of her, and soon what was left of the Order would be hot on their trail as well. They were being cornered, slowly but surely, and soon there would be no place left to hide.

Draco's expression hardened as the bitterness welled up inside him again. He hated that he had been dragged into this. Though he did not regret killing the Dark Lord, he was by no means clapping his hands in delight at the situation he now found himself in either. Living the life of a renegade was not the glamorous occupation people had always made it out to be, and it certainly was not the life he had planned for himself.

"Let's get one thing straight, Weasley," Draco said harshly. "I may be helping you now, but that does not make me your ally. It's your fault that we're in this damn mess in the first place, so don't expect me to have any sympathy for you."

"I never asked you to rescue me," she said quietly.

"No, but that doesn't change the fact that my mother would still be alive if she hadn't helped you escape."

Ginny flinched as if physically struck. He saw the pain that his words had inflicted upon her, and he couldn't help but twist the knife in deeper.

"That's right, Ginevra. Don't think that I've forgotten that you were the one who made my mother betray the Dark Lord and get herself killed. And for what?" he continued with a bitter laugh. "Your so-called allies tried to kill you anyway."

Ginny stared at him through eyes tortured with a nameless agony. A tear rolled slowly down her cheek, but she did not bother to check it. It was as if she had become completely paralysed.

He found himself getting angry. The sight of her pain had done little to soothe the ache in his chest. If anything, it had only made things worse. He found her silence even more aggravating.

"Well?" he snapped. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

Life seemed to spring back into her, and her eyes flashed with rage. "What is it that you want to hear, Draco? That I begged your mother to help me escape? That I put my life over hers because I was scared and I knew that Voldemort was going to kill me?"

He blinked, stunned at her outburst.

"I don't deny that I'm partly to blame for her death," Ginny continued. "You're right, she probably would not be dead if I hadn't asked her to help me escape, but you're wrong if you think that I just left her to die. I asked her to come with me, but she refused. And do you know why?" Her eyes sparkled with angry tears. "Do you know why, Draco?"

Draco shook his head.

"Because she couldn't bear to leave you! You, who treated her no better than a house-elf!"

The blond let out a small breath. He could feel the ache in his chest growing by the second until his heart seemed to shatter into a thousand pieces, sending splinters of pain throughout his body.

So that was the truth. She really had died for him.

He placed his hand over his eyes as he realised the magnitude of what his mother had done. He had always known that she had died to protect him, but not like this. She must have known the danger she was putting herself in by staying behind, but she had done it anyway. She had chosen death to be with him.

Some of his distress must have registered on his face, for the sudden anger that had blazed in Ginny's eyes quickly faded.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Draco didn't want her pity. He turned his back on her.

"I want to be alone."

"But—"

"I want to be alone," he repeated firmly.

She sighed in resignation, and then he heard the sound of her feet crunching away from him as she headed back to the clearing. He leaned his head back against the tree and stared up at the billowing grey sky. There was nothing in his expression to suggest that he was upset, but in his mind he could clearly see the image of those blue eyes, so filled with love, slowly dimming as the life that infused them was snatched away.

"Why, Mother?" he whispered. "Why did you do it?"

She had said that there were some things worth protecting – even dying for. Perhaps this was true, but he couldn't understand it. All he knew was that he felt strangely lost without her. She had always been there for him, and now she wasn't. It was all too much to take in.

And then there was Ginny.

Draco's jaw tightened imperceptibly. He would never admit how frightened he had been when he had seen that jet of green gliding towards the redhead. It was his mother's death all over again, and in that split-second he had known that he could not stand back and let the spell take its course. He could not let her die, so he had saved her, and he had killed for her. Hell, he had almost _died_ for her, and now—

Now he had no idea what to do with her.

He had said that he wasn't her ally but, in truth, he didn't know what he was to her anymore. He didn't even know what he was doing. It was all very disconcerting.

"Ah, so you're finally awake."

He blinked and saw Lara walk out from the trees.

"Where have you been?" he asked suspiciously.

"Looking for a better place to hide. We're not safe in this forest, especially in the open like this."

"You think we're being tracked?"

"I know we are."

Draco frowned. Even if they did find a better place to hide, he did not see how they were going to make it out of this alive with only two wands and a dagger.

Lara stared about the clearing. "Where's Ginny?"

"I don't know."

The brunette eyed him shrewdly. "Did you two quarrel again?"

"Depends what you mean by 'quarrel'," Draco responded noncommittally.

Lara shook her head in exasperation. "She did save your life, you know."

"And I saved hers. I guess that makes us even."

"You're never going to let it go, are you?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Let go of what?"

"Forget it," Lara sighed. "I'd better go and find Ginevra. It's not safe for her to wander around the forest alone."

Draco said nothing and turned his attention back to the stream. Lara rolled her eyes and then headed back into the trees, leaving him to brood to himself.

It did not take her long to find Ginny, who was sitting on a fallen log, chin in hand, and looking just as melancholic as the blond Lara had just left.

"Merlin help me," Lara muttered.

Ginny glanced up in alarm, but then relaxed when she saw the brunette. "Oh, it's you."

"Yes, it's me, but it could have easily been someone else." Lara placed her hands on her hips, and Ginny was strangely reminded of Hermione at her most disapproving. "You shouldn't wander off by yourself like this. It's not safe."

"Sorry, it won't happen again."

"Damn right it won't."

Ginny managed a small smile, but then she went serious again. "Have you talked to Draco? Is he okay?"

"That boy," Lara sighed. "Don't worry your head about him, girlie. He's just angry and upset, as is to be expected after everything that has happened, but he'll get over it. Besides, you should be worrying about yourself."

"I'm fine," Ginny lied.

She had no wish to think about her own problems.

Lara raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Are you?"

Ginny opened her mouth to reiterate that there was nothing wrong, but then she just let out a small sigh. "I don't know."

"I thought as much." Lara pushed the wandering tendrils of brown out of her face. "Well, there's no point brooding over it now. What's done is done."

"I know," Ginny said quietly.

Lara regarded her through pitying eyes. "Try not to think about it. It's a lot to take in, I know, but there's nothing you can do. What matters now is staying alive."

"I know," Ginny repeated, this time more firmly.

"Good." Lara looked up at the sky, noting the darkening clouds moving closer to their position. "We should go. Those refugee scum will be here by noon."

"What? They've followed us here already?"

Lara nodded her head. "They have some good trackers with them. I'm afraid we aren't out of the fire yet."

Ginny sighed and stood up to follow Lara back to the clearing. She paused as something that had been bothering her came back to her mind.

"Lara."

"Yeah?"

"Back at the camp, before we left through the barrier, I think . . . I think I saw Harry."

Lara froze. She turned back to Ginny, an unreadable expression on her face. "Are you sure?"

"I don't know," Ginny admitted. "It all happened so fast, but I could have sworn it was him. It looked just like him."

She didn't care to mention the murderous look she had seen on his face. It hurt her just to think about it.

Lara was quiet for a moment. "I think you should just forget about what you saw, Ginevra."

"But—"

"What are you hoping to gain from this? Even if he is awake now, do you really think that he will help you?"

"I—" She sighed and lowered her eyes to her hands. "I don't know."

Lara placed a hand on her shoulder. "This isn't the time to think about Potter or the camp. People are hunting you, Ginevra, and they will hurt you when they find you. We need to focus on surviving right now."

"You're right. I'm sorry, I just . . ."

Ginny trailed off, shaking her head as she realised the futility of explaining her rather convoluted feelings, and then walked ahead back to the clearing where Draco was waiting for them.

Lara glanced in the direction of the refugee camp. "I wonder," she murmured, a slight frown creasing her brow. "Could he have—?"

Her eyes widened, and then she turned abruptly and strode back to the campsite.

"We're leaving," Lara said shortly, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

Draco picked up his own bag without a word of complaint. "Where are we heading?"

"I found a cave up in the mountains near the edge of the forest. We should get there by sundown."

"By sundown?" Draco exclaimed. "Why can't we just Apparate?"

"Because it could kill the baby, you fool. I wouldn't have let Ginevra Disapparate from the camp yesterday if we'd had a choice in the matter either; however, that can't be helped now. We can only hope that it hasn't tampered with the magic surrounding her womb."

Both turned to stare at Ginny, who shifted uncomfortably under their piercing gazes.

"This is going to slow us down a lot," Draco commented, frowning.

"Then perhaps you should help her move faster," the brunette snapped, already walking ahead. "Hurry up. We don't have much time."

Ginny exchanged speaking glances with Draco. The old Lara had certainly made her reappearance, yet something about the way she kept urging them to move made Ginny wonder if they had more to fear than Lara was letting on.

"Do you think she's hiding something from us?" Ginny asked as Draco grudgingly helped her over a fallen log. He seemed to have realised that a heavily pregnant woman was not going to be able to move easily through a forest.

"She's always hiding something," Draco muttered, throwing an exasperated glance at the brunette. "You'll soon learn that it's easier just to obey her without question."

"Wonderful. I've gone from one tyrant to the next."

Draco's mouth twitched, but he said nothing. Ginny sighed and awkwardly followed after Lara. She knew they needed to find a safer position, but did they really have to walk so fast?

Something splattered on her face, and she glanced up to see rain drops pelting down like miniature catapult stones.

"Perfect," she muttered. "Could this day get any worse?"

**OOOO**

The man knelt on the ground, his head bowed low out of fear or respect. A fine sheen of sweat was gathering on his brow, and a tremor shivered through his body as he felt the hem of a cloak brush against his cheek.

"What news?"

He kept his eyes glued to the cracked stone, not daring to lift his gaze. "We think we may have found them."

"You _think_ you may have found them or you _have_ found them?"

"We have," he affirmed, quickly rectifying his mistake before he could be punished.

"And the girl?"

"Alive and unharmed."

Cool hands gripped his chin, tilting his face upwards. "And it had best stay that way, Tyberius. I want that child."

Tyberius gave an involuntarily shudder as he met those cruel, obsidian eyes. "Yes, Bellatrix."

"You may go."

Bellatrix watched the Death Eater stumble out of the room, and a small smile curved her lips. She had them cowering in her hand: one squeeze and they would do anything for her.

Soon it would be time . . .

**OOOO **

Ginny leaned against the tree, puffing in exhaustion and pain. They had been walking for hours, and the contractions that had been so agonising to her the day before had started up again with a vengeance. To make things worse, her dress was soaked through from the rain, as the storm had well and truly set in now, making the already laborious paths more dangerous from the mud. She had slipped more than once, though Draco had been there to stop her from toppling completely over. He hadn't left her side since they had started the trek. It would have been comforting if she hadn't known that he was only doing it to protect his own neck.

Draco paused as he realised she had stopped. "Are you alright?"

His voice was clipped, but she thought she could see a hint of concern in his eyes.

"Do I look like I'm bloody alright?" Ginny snapped, gritting her teeth as another jolt of pain surged through her. "Just let me rest for a bit."

"Ginevra, we can't stop here. We have to keep moving."

"I'm telling you I _can't_!"

Lara glanced back at them, hands on her hips. "What's wrong?"

"Ginevra says she can't go on anymore," Draco explained, shooting an impatient look at Ginny, who had already demanded several 'rests' prior to this.

"Well, she's just going to have to. We're almost at the cave; she can rest all she wants once we get there."

"Easy for you to say," Ginny grumbled, and then let out a sharp cry of pain as she suffered a particularly crippling contraction.

Draco's brow creased into a frown. He walked over to where Lara was standing. "Maybe we should let her rest," he suggested in a low voice. "All this walking can't be good for her."

"Careful, Draco, or people will start to think you actually care."

His jaw tightened. "I don't think this is the time for jokes, Lara."

"You're right," Lara agreed, glancing at the redhead. A troubled gleam came into her eyes. "It's not safe to rest here, though. They're too close."

"How close?"

"My senses tell me they'll be here in twenty minutes, maybe less."

"Twenty minutes?" Draco exclaimed. "That won't give us nearly enough time."

"Not us, Draco. _Her_. She's already going into labour."

Draco ran a hand through his hair. "What do we do? She can barely walk."

"We'll just have to—"

"Lara!" Ginny cried, suddenly panicked.

Draco and Lara both turned to see Ginny clutching her stomach, her face ghostly white.

"What? What is it?"

"My water, it's—"

Lara suddenly went rigid, her eyes widening just a fraction, and then she faced Draco with an anxious expression on her face. "Go! Take her and go!"

"What? But—"

"She needs to get out of here _now_."

"Lara!" Ginny cried again, staring in horror at the foul-smelling fluid trickling down her legs.

Draco stared at the redhead in alarm, then looked helplessly back at Lara.

"The cave is here," Lara explained, scribbling down the coordinates on a piece of parchment. "Get her there as fast as you can, and place as many distracting spells around the entrance as possible. I don't want anyone finding her."

"What about you?"

Lara smiled grimly. "I'll hold them off here. Don't worry," she added, seeing his concerned expression, "I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Now go! You don't have much time."

Draco knew there was no point arguing. He swallowed back his frustration and moved back to where Ginny was sobbing quietly, scooping her up in his arms without a word.

"Take care of her, Draco," Lara said firmly.

He nodded his head and then ran off further into the trees, clutching Ginny close to his chest. It was not long before he heard the screams of wizards and witches start up behind him, accompanied by the snatches of red and green that briefly illuminated the forest.

Ginny cried out in pain again, and Draco glanced down at her with a hard look on his face.

"You have to be quiet, Ginevra."

"I can't," she whimpered, burying her face into his chest.

Draco sighed, knowing what he would have to do. He reached into his robe pocket, balancing her in his arms with his other hand and knee, and then pulled out his wand. She met his unflinching gaze through tear-filled eyes. A lesser man would have succumbed to that pathetic look, but Draco was not moved.

"_Silencio_," he murmured.

Ginny's cries of pain were immediately silenced. Draco held her closer to his chest, though this time he kept his wand in his hand, and then continued to run with her towards the cave. She writhed in his arms, clearly in the deepest of agony, but he knew they could not stop. The battle was still too close.

A frown tugged at his lips as he thought of Lara staying behind to hold the Order off. He hoped that she did nothing stupid. She was the only one who knew what was going on around here. Without her, he and Ginny would be completely lost.

His gaze fell back to the witch in his arms, and his frown deepened as he realised that even if they did get to the cave, he had no idea how to help her. Sure, he had no trouble protecting her in battle, but he was helpless to protect her against their child coming into the world.

Draco cursed under his breath, realising the hopelessness of their situation, but he knew there was no turning back now. He would just have to try.

The trees began to lessen as he ran further up the mountain. He used a quick Four-Point spell to get his bearings, and then turned sharply to the right, ignoring the pain rippling through his muscles as he carried Ginny up the steep slope.

It was a relief when he finally saw the entrance to the cave, though it would have been easy to miss if he had not known what to look for. The entrance was hidden behind a large slab of rock, almost blending into the mountain. Lara had chosen their hiding place well.

Draco carried Ginny into the cave and then gently laid her down on the ground. She reached out to grasp his wrist, her eyes wide with fright as she babbled something to him, though he could not hear what.

"I have to put the wards up," Draco said, turning away.

She tightened her grip on his wrist and mouthed something to him, which he thought might have been a request for him not to leave.

"I'm not going to leave you, Ginevra," he said with surprising gentleness.

Ginny relaxed slightly. He removed her fingers from his wrist and then went back to the cave entrance to put up the wards, making sure to put a sound barrier up as well so that no one could hear what was going on inside the cave. The flashes of green in the distance told him that the battle was still going on. There seemed to be so many of them. He wondered if Lara really would be able to hold them off.

Draco turned his face towards Ginny, who was silently screaming in pain, and for a moment he felt crippled by his own helplessness. What did Lara think he could do?

"Get a grip," he whispered to himself.

Taking in a deep breath, he walked back to where Ginny was lying and removed the silencing charm from her. The cave was instantly filled with her screams, which echoed around him like a haunting laugh. He ignored the urge to scream in frustration himself, and knelt down beside her.

"Ginevra," Draco began in a voice that barely concealed his panic, "I need you to tell me what to do or I can't help you."

Ginny barely registered that he was talking to her, so caught up was she in her own pain and fear.

"Ginevra," Draco said again, gripping her shoulders. "_Ginny_!"

Her eyes darted to his, and he held her gaze steadily.

"I can't do this on my own," he said softly, admitting his weakness for the first time. "I need your help."

Something about the quiet admission must have had an effect on her, for he felt her relax under his hands, and her sobs subsided slightly.

"I'll try," she said hoarsely.

Draco nodded and then released his grip on her shoulders. He hoped that the fear he could see in her eyes was not reflected in his own, because right now he was terrified. He had never delivered a baby before.

Ginny explained as best as she could remember from her healing classes what he had to do, which did nothing to ease his nerves, as she didn't seem too confident herself. They had no choice but to try, though. The baby was coming whether they were prepared for it or not.

Draco met her eyes as he knelt before her spread legs, noting her fear but also her determination. "You ready?" he asked.

She nodded her head, tears already rolling down her cheeks.

"Then push."

Ginny gave an anguished cry – a cry that was repeated many times that night. Draco did his best to help her, but there was only so much he could do with only a wand and no pain relief potions. For a moment he wondered if she would even make it through the birth alive. She looked so pale, and there seemed to be so much blood.

But then a different cry pierced the night, and Draco looked down in wonder at the tiny thing in his arms, with its impossibly small hands and feet. The baby looked up at him through blue-grey eyes, and for a moment, he felt the overwhelming strength of the magic radiating from within the child.

"Ginevra," Draco whispered, awed by the simple power of what he was seeing. "We have a daughter."


	15. An Old Friend

**An Old Friend**

"Ginevra, we have a daughter."

Draco turned to face the woman who had just given birth to his child, still clutching the newly born infant in his arms. The redhead was deathly pale, with dark shadows tracing her eyes and her hair sticking to her face from sweat. A wan smile touched her lips as she met his gaze, and she reached out her hands to take the baby from him. He leaned forward to hand their daughter to her, but as he did so, he noticed a crimson tear rolling down her cheek.

"Ginevra?" His eyes widened. "What the—"

She suddenly went rigid, still holding her arms out to him like a lover welcoming an embrace. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and he could see more tears dripping down her face, staining her neck and arms a deep red. Draco clutched the child to his chest in surprise, almost stumbling backwards as he realised it was not tears he was looking at, but rivulets of blood streaming forth from every pore on her body.

He stared at her silent horror, not knowing how he could stop the blood from pumping out of her veins or reverse the life that was flowing out of her. Then her eyes suddenly regained focus and locked with his, and it almost seemed as if she were pointing her finger accusingly at him.

"It's your fault I'm like this," she whispered, blood bubbling unheeded out of her mouth with every word she spoke. "You promised you would protect me. You promised you would keep me safe."

"I tried," he said defensively. "There was nothing I could do."

She grasped his wrist with bloody fingers. "You didn't try enough."

He stared into her death-chilled eyes, and then her grip suddenly loosened from his wrist and she fell back against the blankets in an awkward heap, looking like no more than a broken doll.

"Ginevra," Draco murmured, giving her a light shake.

Her head lolled to the side, and he found himself confronted with her wide, staring eyes. He didn't need to check her pulse to know the truth.

She was already dead.

**OOOO**

Draco sat up with a choked gasp, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. He glanced to the left where he could see Ginny curled up under the blankets. She looked deathly pale, but the shallow rise and fall of her breasts told him that she was still alive. On his other side, he could see his daughter still fast asleep in her make-shift crib, alive and unharmed just as she had been when he'd left her. He exhaled soundlessly and ran his hand through his hair, feeling his heartbeat slow as he realised it had only been a dream.

"Just a dream," he murmured, as if voicing the words would somehow give him further reassurance that what he had witnessed was nothing more than the overwrought workings of his imagination.

He sighed and placed his head in his hands, feeling the clammy touch of cold sweat on his forehead. Having a nightmare was nothing new to him, but this one had unsettled him more than he cared to admit. He stared at the redhead, noting the dark shadows circling her eyes and the chalky white skin. She had said she was fine – that she just needed some rest – but he knew that something was wrong – that something had been wrong for a while now. There had been so much blood . . . _too_ much blood. She'd barely been able to hold their daughter afterwards, she was so weak, and he could tell that her breathing was becoming more erratic as the hours passed on.

He wished that Lara would hurry up and come back to them. He didn't know how to take care of Ginny, let alone the child.

"_But what if she doesn't come back?"_ a small voice whispered in his mind.

Draco thrust the thought aside. Of course Lara would come back. She had to.

"_It's already been a day. You know she would have come back by now if everything had gone as planned."_

The blond frowned and glanced towards the cave entrance. He stood up and walked over to the opening, peering out into the misty night where the forest loomed below. There were no flashing lights to illuminate the darkness. Everything was silent, telling him clearly enough that whatever battle had been fought amongst those trees was long finished.

Draco looked behind him to where Ginny and the child were still sleeping. He hesitated a moment, then gripped his wand more tightly in his hand and walked out of the cave, being careful to stay in the shadows as he made his way back down the mountain. The first body he found was surprisingly close to their hiding place – obviously the battle had moved from the clearing – but he was surprised to see that the man was wearing the silver mask of a Death Eater. He had not known that they'd been so close on their trail.

His eyes scouted the landscape, and he saw another body – this time a woman – lying with her neck at an odd angle not too far from him. Judging by her ordinary brown robes, she was one of the trackers who'd come from the refugee camp. There was no sight of Lara.

"What happened here?" Draco murmured to himself, frowning as he stared at the two bodies.

He walked deeper into the forest, occasionally finding another dead body abandoned for the vultures – sometimes a Death Eater, sometimes a refugee. Both groups had obviously been in a hurry if they'd not bothered to take their fallen comrades with them, but Draco knew there was no way that Lara could have forced them to flee so quickly. This battle had been fought between refugee and Death Eater – Lara had simply been caught in the middle.

A fresh hope took form in his mind. If Lara was smart, which he knew she was, she would have simply let the Death Eaters and refugees finish each other off while she took cover.

But then why hadn't she returned?

Draco began searching the forest more frantically. It was possible that she had been wounded during the fight and was unable to get back to the cave by herself. After an hour of fruitless searching, however, he knew that it would be pointless to continue looking for the brunette. The only comfort he could take was that while he had not found her, he had at least not discovered her dead body either.

He turned and headed back towards the cave, quickening his pace as he thought of Ginny and the child left alone together. The last thing he wanted was for something to happen to them. He felt responsible for them somehow, though he couldn't place why. Perhaps it was simply because it was just the three of them left now and he was the only one who could protect them. Or maybe he just felt obligated to take care of Ginny and the child because that was what Lara had asked him to do.

But, deep down, Draco knew that wasn't really true. There was a part of him that wanted to protect them, not because he had no choice or because it was just the expected thing to do. No, this was something different. Something much more personal. He'd felt it that day when he'd saw Scrimgeour fire the killing curse at Ginny in the Isolation Chamber, and he'd felt it when he'd looked into his daughter's eyes for the first time. There was no way to explain it, for there was no rational explanation for it. It just was.

However, beyond this instinctive need to protect Ginny and his daughter was the very real fear that the two might fall into the wrong hands. Just because the battle was over didn't mean that others wouldn't be back to pick up the pieces, and he knew the hunt would become all the more desperate once their enemies learned of his daughter's existence.

Draco himself hardly knew what to think of her. She was a part of him, created in the image of his own flesh and blood, but the magic inside her was so powerful that it went beyond even his comprehension. There was no saying what she would become, and though he hadn't liked to admit it to Ginny, he knew the child was still growing at a rate that was far beyond normal. It was an unnerving thought.

The blond stopped at the cave entrance, pausing just a moment to make sure there was no one around. Satisfied that he was not being followed, he entered the cave and was relieved to see Ginny and his daughter still asleep and unharmed. He pocketed his wand, then walked over to the crib he had transfigured from a rock for the child and looked down into her small face. She looked so innocent, but even asleep he could still feel the immense power radiating inside her.

"They'll never stop," he murmured, realising that as long as she was alive their enemies would continue to hunt them.

She would always be a threat – always a source of fear and hate. But though she was a strange and frightening child, she was still his, and in that he felt bound to her. He didn't know if he loved her – it almost seemed impossible to do so considering the circumstances – but he did know that he had to protect her. Of that, he would always be certain.

He sighed, turning away to stoke the fire to give more light, when he suddenly froze. He couldn't explain it, but somehow he knew that there was someone else with him in the cave. Something pressed into the back of his neck, and he let out a small breath as he realised it was the tip of a wand.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you now," a raspy yet strangely familiar voice growled into his ear.

"If you were going to kill me, you would have done it already," he responded calmly, straightening to his full height.

The wand dug more sharply into his skin. "I wouldn't count on that if I was you, and if you keep reaching for your wand like that, I really will do it."

Draco reluctantly dropped his hand back to his side, and he was irritated to hear an amused chuckle.

"I thought so." The person reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. "Thank you for letting me know where you keep your weapon. This will make things much easier."

Draco gritted his teeth, though he remained silent. In his mind he was rapidly going through different ways of disarming his unwanted intruder. He had already gauged that she was a female, and therefore likely to be a lot weaker than him. If he could distract her, if only for a moment, he was sure he could wrestle the wand off her. But how to distract her?

Providence smiled on him as the baby stirred and gave a little cry.

"What was that?" the woman demanded, and he felt the pressure on his neck lessen just a fraction.

Draco seized his chance and spun around with unnerving swiftness to attack, only to receive a shock of his own as he found himself confronted with a familiar brown-haired witch. He hesitated, not daring to believe what he was seeing. There was nothing extraordinary about her features, but he would know that bushy hair anywhere. One did not forget Hermione Granger in a hurry, though he certainly had not expected to run into her here. The last he'd heard, she was dead.

"It can't be," Hermione whispered, seeming to forget his existence as she noticed the redhead asleep under the bundle of blankets. Her eyes suddenly narrowed on Draco, and she once again aimed her wand threateningly at him. "What are you doing with Ginny? Tell me!"

"I don't think you want to do that, Granger," Draco replied, watching her warily.

"Oh, no, Malfoy, I really would, so you'd best start talking if you want to live."

Draco could tell by the determined look in her eyes that she wasn't joking. Whatever had happened to her during that year she'd gone missing had hardened her heart to become as cold and ruthless as his. However, he was in no mood to play submissive prisoner to a girl who clearly knew nothing about what had been going on.

The baby's cries increased in volume, but Draco made no move to pick her up. He knew that any sudden movement on his part would make Hermione attack, and he had no desire to enter his grave earlier than needed.

"Whose baby is that?" Hermione demanded, throwing an exasperated glance at the screaming child.

"Mine," Draco said calmly. "Why? Are you going to kill her too?"

Hermione gaped at him. "That's _your_ baby?"

"Yes, mine and Ginevra's."

"B-but—"

"I don't know what rock you've been hiding under, but I don't have time for your stupid questions." Draco advanced coolly towards her, ignoring the way she stiffened and tightened her grip on her wand. His eyes were icy when they met hers. "I think it's time you lower your wand, Granger."

Hermione did as she was told, too dazed to do otherwise. Draco moved past her and picked the child up from her crib, cradling her against his chest as he tried to quiet her sobs.

"I don't understand," Hermione said, holding a hand to her head. "How did you—but she—"

"As I said," Draco interposed coldly, "I don't know what rock you've been hiding under, but you clearly don't know anything. It makes me wonder what you are even doing here."

"I've been sleeping in this cave while I research in this area," Hermione answered stiffly. "When I couldn't find it again, I realised someone had put misdirection charms all over the place. It wasn't hard to figure out the rest. I knew someone must be hiding in here – most likely a deserter from the battle – but I never expected it to be you."

"Did you see what happened in the forest?" Draco demanded, taking a step towards her. "There was a woman with brown hair. Did you see her?"

"I only saw that there was a fight between some Death Eaters and a group of what looked like trackers from the closest refugee camp. I never went close enough to really see their faces."

"I'm surprised," Draco remarked somewhat snidely. "I always thought you Gryffindors were the heroic type; I would have thought you'd be charging in there to help your comrades."

"It was not my battle," Hermione said softly. "Besides, I've had more important things to worry about." Her eyes flicked to the baby in his arms. "So have you, it would seem."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Yes, well, I didn't have much choice in the matter." He looked away, and a bitter expression came to his face. "A lot of things seem to be out of my control lately."

The baby started crying again, this time more persistently. Draco gave an exasperated groan and tried to comfort her, but no amount of walking around or mumbling soothing nonsense could get her to quieten again.

"I think she's hungry," Hermione observed.

"What?" Draco snapped, looking a little frazzled.

"I said she's probably hungry. Newborns usually are after they wake up."

They both turned to look at Ginny, who still appeared to be fast asleep, though she looked far from peaceful. Her face was drawn, and there was a pained look about her mouth. However, what really disturbed Draco was her sharp, uneven breathing. It sounded worse than what it had two hours ago.

"What's wrong with her?" Hermione asked quietly.

"I don't know," Draco admitted. "I've tried to help her, but—"

He fell silent, refusing to admit to the brunette how truly helpless he was. He didn't even know why he was bothering to talk to her. If they were under any other circumstance, he probably would have already killed her by now, but then a lot of things had changed since he'd last seen Hermione Granger. He had more important things to worry about than one stupid Mudblood.

Hermione frowned and knelt down beside the sleeping redhead. "Ginny," she murmured, giving her friend a light shake. "Ginny, you have to wake up."

Ginny's eyelashes fluttered slightly in response, but she did not open her eyes. Her hair was plastered to her face, damp with sweat, and Draco could actually see the pulse in her neck pumping frantically to push her blood through her veins. Hermione glanced up at Draco with a grim expression on her face while the baby continued crying in his arms.

"How long as she been like this?"

"Since the birth, I guess," Draco responded. "I think she's getting worse."

Hermione frowned and placed her hand against the redhead's forehead. Draco watched the two of them for a moment, seeing the troubled frown deepen on Hermione's face, and felt an icy hand close around his heart. He'd seen that look many times before to know what it signified: it was the look of hopelessness, and it always preceded death.

"She's dying, isn't she?" he asked, the calmness of his voice sounding strange even to his own ears.

"Yes," Hermione said truthfully. "She's fighting to stay alive, but I don't know how long she'll last without the proper medical care. She's very weak, Malfoy, and she's lost a lot of blood. It's only a matter of time now."

Draco closed his eyes, even as the sound of his daughter's sobs grew louder. He rocked her gently in his arms, instinctively trying to give her comfort as he tried to come to terms with what he was hearing. The images from his dream flooded back into his mind, but he pushed them away, unable to bear the thought that his nightmare could become reality.

Ginny couldn't die. She just couldn't.

_Damn it, Lara_, he thought fiercely to himself. _Where are you?_

**OOOO**

Tyberius trembled as he knelt before his mistress, keeping his head bowed so that he would not have to see the disappointment in her obsidian eyes. There was a crack in the stone, and he watched a cockroach crawl out from the crevice and scuttle across the floor, when it was suddenly killed by a flash of green. Bellatrix smiled sweetly and lowered her wand.

"So the girl got away, did she?"

He nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak.

She stroked her wand with one bony finger, and a remorseful sigh escaped her lips. "You let Lara sense that you were coming, didn't you, Tyberius?"

His head lifted at that. "I swear, Bellatrix, I did everything as you said."

"Then why was the girl nowhere to be seen by the time you caught up with the little runaways?" Bellatrix demanded, losing her honeyed tones as she closed the distance between them and pressed her wand sharply to his temple.

"I—" He swallowed and licked his lips nervously. "Perhaps one of my men may have let something slip."

"One of your men, was it?"

"Yes—I don't know. We tried to throw her off our scent, but it's impossible to conceal our thoughts and intentions all the time – you know that."

Bellatrix gave a harsh laugh. "Not quite impossible, my dear Tyberius, but then you were never good at Occlumency." She removed her wand from his temple and tapped him lightly on the cheek. "There, there. Don't cry. I'm not going to kill you."

Tyberius let out a small breath of relief. "Thank you, Bellatrix. You are merciful."

She smiled, and a manic gleam came into her eyes. "I said I wasn't going to kill you; I never said I wasn't going to punish you."

His eyes widened in horror, but he was not even able to make a sound of protest before he was writhing in agony on the floor. Bellatrix watched with childish glee as he twitched and screamed, and it was not until he was sobbing openly that she finally removed the curse. She knelt down in front of him and took his tear-streaked face in her hands, though he tried to jerk away from her.

"Shh," she cooed, caressing his hair as if he were a wounded child and she his loving mother. "Don't cry, my love. You know I had to do it."

"Y-yes, Bellatrix," he sobbed.

"And you will go back and find the girl, won't you?"

"Yes, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix stepped away from him. "Then assemble a new team together and find her." She met his frightened eyes, and a chilling smile curled her lips. "Lucky for you, Lara is no longer protecting the girl. But you will have to deal with Draco, and he will not be easy." Her smile widened. "I should know; I taught him myself."

"What should we do if he resists?"

Bellatrix thought for a moment. "I want him alive. He is . . . _important_ to my plans."

"Your plans?"

She smiled again and leaned down to caress his cheek. "You'll see, my love. I'm going to create something wonderful for us."

The door opened and a man wearing all black walked in.

"Bellatrix, the prisoner is ready for you."

"Bring her in," Bellatrix responded, straightening her back.

Tyberius turned his face and saw a witch with long, brown hair be dragged into the room. Her robe was torn, and there were cuts and bruises all over her face, as well as a long gash on her arm that even now was dripping blood. He recognised her immediately as the witch they'd found in the forest – the one who had once been Voldemort's right-hand servant before she'd betrayed him.

"So pleased you could join us, Lara," Bellatrix greeted with feigned friendliness. "We've missed you here at headquarters."

"I'm so sorry, Bellatrix," Lara said sweetly. "If I'd known you'd been pining for me, I would have come back sooner."

The black eyes narrowed, and Lara suddenly let out a sharp gasp and touched a hand to her cheek where rivulets of blood splattered her fingers from the new wound. Bellatrix smiled as she lowered her wand.

"It seems you are not invincible after all, Lara. I would not test my patience if I were you."

Lara breathed deeply. "I'm surprised you haven't killed me already. I did betray your master."

"My master?" Bellatrix laughed and closed the distance between them. "No, Lara," she whispered so that no one else could hear. "He was not my master. In fact, you could even say that you did me a favour."

Lara stared at Bellatrix as if seeing her for the first time. "You . . . It was _you_?"

Tyberius and the other wizard stared at the black-haired witch curiously. Bellatrix's eyes snapped towards them.

"Leave us!"

The two men reluctantly left, shutting the door behind them. Bellatrix turned back to Lara with a secretive little smile.

"So you finally figured it out, did you?"

"I knew there was a Dissenter spy, but I would never have thought it was you," Lara admitted.

She had always thought that Bellatrix was loyal to the Dark Lord – fanatically so. It seemed that she was wrong. Bellatrix had joined the Dissenters: a group of vicious and power-hungry purebloods, most of who had once served or at least supported Voldemort at one point in their lives. They fought against Death Eater and refugee alike, and were just as eager to get their hands on Ginny and the child as the rest of the redhead's enemies. For one awful night, they had almost succeeded as well. Now Lara knew why. Bellatrix had been helping them.

"The Dark Lord was a truly inspiring man," Bellatrix murmured, smiling reminiscently to herself. Her eyes flicked back to Lara, and her expression soured. "But then _you_ came; you with your little powers and ingratiating ways. He didn't care about any of us after that. It was all about you – you and my brat of a nephew."

"So you betrayed him?"

"I had no choice," Bellatrix spat. "I would have followed him to the ends of the world, but there was no room for me by his side with you around. I knew I could never regain the power I had, so I decided to make my own plans." She smiled, looking very satisfied with herself. "And now, thanks to you, I have complete control over the Death Eaters."

"They don't know you're a spy, do they?" Lara asked, watching the other witch warily.

"Of course not. They think you're the Dissenter spy." Bellatrix gave a hard laugh. "Really, it's quite perfect how it all worked out. I didn't even have to lift a finger – you and Draco did everything for me."

"They'll realise the truth eventually, Bellatrix. It's only a matter of time."

"Ah, but by then they'll be so loyal to me that it won't matter. You see, Lara, I'm going to create a new world – one where purebloods have complete dominion. The Dissenters already listen to me; it won't be difficult to bring the Death Eaters around to our way of thinking as well. All anyone really wants in this world is power, and I am going to give them that."

"And how do you hope to do that?"

"Well, that's where you come in." Bellatrix smiled, running the tip of her wand down Lara's bloody cheek. "You're going to help me, Lara."

"Why would I help you?" Lara asked scornfully, wrenching her face out of reach.

Bellatrix laughed. "Oh, I know you wouldn't lift a finger to help me if you had the choice, but see, I don't need you to do anything. You're already helping me by just being here."

Lara's eyes widened as the truth dawned on her. "You're using me as bait."

A wicked smile curled Bellatrix's lips. "I wonder how long it will be before Draco comes looking for you? He's very dependent on you, you know, and I would so love to meet him again. There's nothing quite like the bonds of family affection."

"Draco?" Lara said, surprised. "I thought you wanted Ginevra?"

"Oh, I want her too – who wouldn't with all the power she and her child have to offer? – but it's Draco who will help me achieve my dream, and wherever the girl goes, he is sure to follow."

"But why would you want Draco?"

"Can't you guess?"

Lara thought for a moment, and then—

"The curse of Salazar," she breathed, eyes widening with horror.

Bellatrix smiled. "_Now_ you understand."

"Yes," Lara said, feeling suddenly very sick. "I think I do."

**OOOO **

It was raining again. Draco turned away from the entrance and walked back to where the others were gathered. Hermione glanced up at him from where she was bathing Ginny's forehead, but she said nothing and continued with her task. Draco sat down on Ginny's other side, occasionally casting a suspicious glance at the brunette.

He cherished no warm feelings towards Hermione Granger. The only reason he hadn't killed her on sight was because she had taken him by surprise, and the only reason she was still alive now was because she was willing to help Ginny. But he didn't trust her, and he certainly didn't _want_ anything to do with her; he just knew that his basic healing skills were not enough to help Ginny or his daughter, and no matter how convoluted his feelings were for the both of them, he had no desire to see them die. However, even Hermione had admitted that without the necessary potions there was very little she could do for Ginny.

Draco frowned. If only Lara were here. She would know what to do – she always did – but they couldn't just wait around forever in the hopes that Lara might return. Ginny didn't have time for that; she was already dying.

"You know," Hermione began, watching him closely, "you never did tell me how you ended up here with Ginny – or with a daughter for that matter."

"That's because it's none of your business," Draco said tiredly, not in the mood for her idiotic questions.

"I think it is my business if I'm helping you, wouldn't you agree? I'm not stupid, you know. I may not know everything that's been going on, but I do know that nine months ago Ginny was not pregnant, and you certainly were not on our side."

He laughed. "_Your_ side? Why would I be on your side?"

"But you—"

"The only side I fight for is my own. Right now that happens to include protecting Ginevra and my daughter, and that, Granger, is the only reason you're alive right now."

Hermione stiffened. "Are you threatening me?"

"Not at the moment, but believe me when I say that I won't hesitate to kill you if you give me even the slightest suspicion that you're working for them."

"Working for who?"

"Scrimgeour and his refugee scum, of course. They've already tried to kill Ginevra once; I don't plan on letting them get another chance."

Hermione frowned. "I don't understand. Why would they try to kill Ginny?"

Draco gestured to his sleeping daughter. "Because of her."

"Your daughter?"

He nodded but offered no further explanation. He just wished she would shut up.

"But why?" Hermione mused aloud, unable to let the matter go. "What could they possibly have against your daughter?"

Draco sighed in exasperation. "What do you think, Granger? They're afraid of her – of what she might do. That's why they want to kill her, and they'll kill Ginevra as well if they get their hands on her."

Hermione looked suddenly very pale. "Then it's true."

"What's true?"

"For the past year I've been researching the disease that's been killing the Muggles, hoping to find a cure."

"Disease?" Draco queried with a frown.

"You don't know?"

"I don't usually concern myself with Muggle health and well-being," Draco responded dryly.

Hermione's eyes narrowed, but she let the barb slide. "I suppose I can explain it for you then," she said stiffly. "For the past four years there has been a disease going through England that has lethal effects on Muggles. Magical people can't catch it, though some Squibs have shown the same symptoms and have even died from the illness. This made me wonder if the disease is specifically targeting the magic gene – or, in this case, a person's lack of it."

"Get to the point," Draco snapped.

"I decided to try and find out more about the disease in case there was any way to make a cure. While I was researching, I came across a prophecy in an old archive that spoke about a woman who would be cursed by the poison of a jade snake, and in her womb a terrible power would grow, which, when released into the world, would bring about the destruction of all things good and pure." Hermione leaned forward, and he could see the barely-concealed fear in her eyes. "The Seer called it Pandora's Box."

"And you think my daughter is that child?" Draco asked sceptically, though even he felt there were too many similarities for it to be simply coincidence.

"You said it yourself: people are afraid of her – of what she might do. Fully grown wizards don't fear little children unless they have a good reason to do so." Hermione frowned. "Which means you must be the jade snake."

Draco laughed – even as he thought of the jade stone that had been used on him as a baby and realised that it _had_ to be true.

"I think you're getting ahead of yourself, Granger," he responded smoothly. "Besides, I don't think this is the time to be worrying about ancient prophecies. It's Ginevra we need to worry about right now."

"You're right," Hermione agreed, glancing worriedly back at the redhead, who was looking noticeably worse.

Draco thought for a moment. "You said there was a chance to save her if you got the proper potions, right?"

"That's right."

"Do you know what these potions are?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, but there's no way you'll be able to get them."

"I know I can't," Draco responded impatiently, "but you can."

"_Me_?"

"There's a refugee camp not far from here. All you have to do is walk in there, get the potions from the medical tent, and then bring them back here."

"I suppose that could work," Hermione mused.

"It had better; I don't plan on letting Ginevra die on me just yet," Draco said grimly.

Talking with Hermione had made him recall the conversation he had had with Lara just before they had set out for the refugee camp to rescue Ginny. She had told him he was cursed because of the stone, but she had also said that the only person who could remove that curse was Ginny – and right now Ginny was mere inches from death.

Draco gave a sideways look at Hermione. He could tell that she obviously knew quite a bit, and perhaps that could come in handy if things got desperate, but for now he would keep her as much in the dark as possible. He doubted she would be so eager to help if she knew that the child she was caring for was indeed the one from the prophecy, or that he and Ginny had slaughtered many of her friends when escaping from the camp. All she needed to know were the bare facts, for though she was by no means stupid, he could see that she was trusting – and he could use that to his advantage.

"Alright then," Hermione said, looking back at him. "I'll do it; I'll get the potions, but just know that I'm not doing this for you."

"Yes, yes, you're doing it for her – I know."

Hermione frowned as she stared at him. "I never thought I'd be helping you."

"Well, I never thought I'd be doing a lot of things that I've been forced to do lately either, but that's life," Draco responded brusquely, and thrust her bag into her arms. "Take this, get the potions, and come straight back here – don't even talk to anyone if you can help it. The fewer people who know about this, the better. Got that?"

"I'm not deaf, Malfoy."

"Good, then I won't have to waste my time repeating myself."

Hermione slung the bag over her shoulder. "Will you be alright here taking care of Ginny and the baby by yourself?"

"I'm sure I'll survive," Draco said dryly. "Just make sure you hurry."

"I will, and when I come back I'll expect you tell me everything that's been happening."

"Fine, whatever you want. Just go!"

Hermione left without a further word, and Draco let out a small breath of relief. There was no doubt that he mistrusted the little Mudblood, but she had certainly been a Godsend for Ginny, and for that, he could only be grateful.

His eyes flicked to the redhead, and he reached out to smooth the sticky hair from her face, letting his hand caress her cheek as he drew it back. Her eyelashes fluttered again, but she gave no other sign that she even noticed his presence. He sighed and went to walk away, when her fingers suddenly latched around his wrist, and he could feel her pulse beating rapidly against his skin like the erratic flutter of butterfly wings.

"Don't leave me," she croaked.

"You're awake," he exclaimed, kneeling back down beside her and meeting her fever-ridden eyes.

She nodded her head feebly. "I feel so weak, Draco. I'm s-scared,"

"I know," Draco responded with surprising gentleness, "but Granger is going to help you get better, Ginevra, so you have to stay strong until she gets back, okay?"

Ginny didn't seem to understand the significance of his comment, for she frowned in a lost way to herself and then looked at him with anxious eyes.

"Our b-baby. Is she—is she okay?"

"She's fine."

"Good," Ginny sighed. "I was so w-worried." Her fingers tightened on his wrist, and a feverish smile touched her lips. "Have you given her a name yet?"

"Not yet."

"Oh," Ginny murmured, closing her eyes again, though still keeping her hold on his hand. "I had a dream about our daughter, you know. There was this big room, and in the middle was the most beautiful box I'd ever seen. But when I opened the box it was our daughter who was inside, and then a man who looked exactly like Scrimgeour appeared and told me that I had made a grave mistake. It was such an odd dream; it almost reminds me of that story."

"Pandora's Box?" Draco supplied, even as he felt his heart sink.

"That's it," Ginny said sleepily. "Perhaps we should call her Pandora then."

"It's not exactly the nicest name."

"Maybe not, but it fits. Don't you know that in the story Pandora opened a box that let everything evil out into the world, but once all the evil creatures had come out of the box, she saw something quite different emerge."

"And what was that?"

Ginny said nothing. Draco looked at her in alarm, but she was still breathing, and he realised by the slackened grip on his wrist that she had either fainted or simply fallen asleep again. He frowned, hoping that she had not used up too much of her strength by talking to him.

"Don't you dare die on me, Ginevra," he said sternly. "I need you to take this curse off me."

Ginny gave no sign that she had heard this command, but then it wasn't as if he expected her to. He sighed and leaned back against the hard rock of the cave, thinking over everything that she had said. He wasn't sure he entirely liked this Pandora's Box thing that kept popping up everywhere. His daughter already troubled him in more ways than he cared to admit because of her power, and now here Ginny was trying to name their daughter after the dratted box, or girl. It was all the same, really, and Draco knew it was bad news either way.

But then what had Ginny said? The final creature that had come out of the box was something different – something small and very delicate, if his memory served him correct.

"Hope," Draco murmured. "Hope came out of the box."

He glanced towards his daughter, and a frown touched his lips. There was nothing hopeful about her magic; it was dark and frightening, just waiting to burst out of the little body that encased it. If he was smart, he would kill her himself before she could become a threat to them. But he knew that he couldn't do that. It was impossible for him to harm her, for even he was not immune to the natural bonds of paternal affection.

Draco wondered if that was how Ginny felt; if she too looked at their daughter with both loathing and awe, knowing that she had to protect the helpless infant, yet wishing at the same time that the child had never been born so such a responsibility would not fall on her shoulders.

He smiled wryly to himself. Perhaps Pandora did suit her then. It was true that there was nothing particularly hopeful about his daughter, but that did not mean that he did not hope for her.

After all, what choice did he have?


	16. The Man Who Became Saviour

**A/N: Sorry for the wait. Things have been rather hectic of late, but I will not be abandoning this story, even if I do sometimes take a while to update. **

**I also want to give a special thank you to Leigh for being such a supportive and wonderful beta-reader, even though I know you are so busy. Thanks so much for sticking with me!**

**The Man Who Became Saviour**

Hermione tugged her cloak closer to herself, making sure her face was shrouded from view. It had not been difficult for her to sneak into the refugee camp, even with the heightened security, but all her stealth would be for nothing if someone recognised her now. Most who knew her believed her to be dead and she would like to keep it that way for the present.

Her eyes fastened on the tent that held all the medical supplies. It was at the centre of the camp, positioned to be convenient to all. The only downside was that it also meant she would have to walk past all the communal fires and other tents just to get there.

Not one to be set-back by such trifling details, Hermione pulled her cowl further around her face and set off at a casual pace towards the tent. It was impossible to use a Disillusionment Charm with so many people around, and she knew trying to be too stealthy would only direct more attention to herself. Her only chance of success lay in acting natural, though she knew if worst came to worst, she would have to reveal her identity. It wasn't like she was their enemy.

She paused, wondering if she could even claim to be an ally of the Order with conviction now. It had been a long time since she had fought for any side. She was not about to join the Death Eaters, but her loyalties were not completely bound to those known as refugees either. After her parents had died from the Muggle disease more than a year ago, she had set off by herself, shedding all ties to her past, focusing only on finding a cure to stop the senseless death of her people. Now she was helping an ex-Death Eater—but no, she wasn't really helping him. She was helping Ginny. Ginny, who had always been her friend. Ginny, who had almost been killed by the same refugees of this camp.

Hermione gritted her teeth, curling her fingers tightly around her wand. She didn't know what was going on or why the refugees would turn against one of their own, but she did know that she had to protect Ginny. She had to get those potions, whatever the cost.

Steeled with new determination, Hermione strode past the communal fires, nodding occasionally to those who glanced her way. There was no laughter, no jokes or rowdy conversation to lighten the oppressive mood of the camp. The people were withdrawn and subdued, like tiny islands floating in an ocean of chaos, existing only for their own thoughts. She saw Remus Lupin sitting near the fire closest to the medical tent, a deep frown creasing his brow. He looked much more haggard than the last time she had seen him, but he did not glance her way, and she slipped past him without trouble, finally coming to the doors of the storage tent.

Hermione pulled her cowl even tighter around her face and then stepped inside the tent, letting out a small breath of relief when she saw that she was alone. There were shelves upon shelves of medical supplies lined up before her: potions of all different colours stored in glass bottles, a variety of bandages with different magical properties, Muggle medical utensils and machines – and somewhere amongst this collection were the potions she needed to save Ginny Weasley.

Hermione wasted no time in searching for the items. She had not trained to be a Healer like Ginny, but she had read a lot of books, and one did not fight in a war, nor spend a year fending for one's survival, without picking up a few useful skills along the way. She knew what she was looking for, and she knew how they would help her dying friend.

"Come on," Hermione muttered, stalking up and down the shelves. "Where are you?"

She would have used an Accio charm to summon the required items, but it was common knowledge that most medical supply tents were protected against such charms to discourage thieves from summoning the stock at will. Hermione didn't want to take any risks.

It was on the fourth row that her eyes alighted on the familiar collection of potions and salves.

"Got you," she whispered, smiling in satisfaction.

She put the potions carefully in her bag, and was just zipping it back up when she felt the aura shift in the room, causing the hairs on her arms to stiffen. Hermione knew she was no longer alone.

"What are you doing?" the newcomer asked in a calm yet oddly disquieting voice.

Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder, grateful that she had already put the stolen supplies away. She plastered a smile on her face and turned, only to freeze.

"Harry?" she exclaimed before she could stop herself, unable to believe what she was seeing. It couldn't be Harry, yet there was his same messy hair and emerald-green eyes.

She took a step towards him. "How—how is this possible? You were in a coma."

Harry shrugged, a faint smile hovering at his lips. "I guess I woke up."

Hermione laughed and then closed the rest of the distance between them, throwing her arms around him and hugging him close. "I'm so glad you're alright. You don't know how much I've missed you!"

Harry wrapped his arms around her. "I've missed you too, Hermione."

The brunette froze in his embrace, jarred by the sound of her name on his lips. He'd never said her name like that before; it was too silky, almost calculating, as if he were trying too hard to sound affectionate.

She pulled back from the hug, meeting his eyes warily. Something was wrong.

Harry laughed at her guarded expression. "What's the matter, Hermione? Aren't you pleased to see me?"

Again, the way he said her name grated on her ears, screaming that this was not right. _He_ was not right.

Hermione stepped back, shaking her head in confusion. "I—it's nothing. I suppose I'm just a little shaken. I thought you would never wake up."

"Well, I did," he said with another laugh, his eyes never leaving hers. "I don't fully understand why _you're_ here, though. They told me you had disappeared more than a year ago—that you might even be dead. Yet here you are, alive and well." His gaze flicked to the bag hanging at her side. "What were you doing, anyway?"

_Lie_.

The thought came to her mind with such unexpected force that she actually recoiled. She didn't understand why she should feel so distrustful towards the raven-haired man. This was Harry: her best friend, the saviour of the wizarding world. There was no reason for her to be afraid of him, yet she realised with a sickening jolt that she _was_ afraid. Something was not right here; her instincts could sense it, and they were screaming at her to run. Run _now_.

"I needed some supplies," she said slowly, taking another step back.

He smiled, though it did not quite reach his eyes. "Yes, I gathered that, but why come back now? What have you been doing with yourself all year, Hermione? Why did you stay away from us for so long?"

Her heart quickened in her chest as the feeling of wrongness intensified. It made no sense, yet the longer she was in his presence, the more she became convinced that something was terribly wrong – that whatever this man looked like, he was not Harry Potter, only someone wearing her friend's skin.

It was a disturbing thought, for if this man was not Harry, who was he?

Hermione swallowed, instinctively slipping her hand into her pocket, curling her fingers around her wand. "I went to try and find a cure for the disease killing the Muggles," she said, knowing the best lies were built on truth, "but I ran into some trouble. It's taken me this long to find the refugee camp again."

"I see," Harry said, watching her closely. "So what do you need the supplies for?"

_He knows_, Hermione thought with a sickening lurch to her stomach.

She gripped her wand tighter, knowing she had to get out fast. She didn't know how he had guessed she was there to help Ginny, but there was no escaping the disquieting feeling that he did indeed know and would stop her if he could – unless, of course, she stopped him first.

Something in her expression must have tipped him off, for he was suddenly aiming his wand at her, his expression grim.

"Don't even think about it," he hissed, and for a moment the 'nice' facade he wore was broken, revealing something far darker than she could ever have imagined.

Hermione's eyes widened. She took another step backwards, clutching the strap of her bag tightly with her free hand. "You—you're not Harry," she breathed, now certain that her fears were true.

A smile curled his lips. "Aren't I?"

She shook her head, refusing to believe this frightening man could be her friend. But then he was closing in on her, a dangerous glint glowing in his eyes.

"Tell me where Ginny Weasley is," he commanded softly.

Hermione edged backwards, brushing against the wall. She started at the feel of the canvas and gazed back at Harry, her heart thudding wildly against her ribs.

He paused, staring at her calculatingly for a moment, and then he laughed. The effect on his expression was startling. It was as if the darkness she had seen in him before had never existed.

"Why so frightened, Hermione?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. "Am I not your friend? Surely you must know that I would never hurt you. All I want is to know where Ginny is." He lowered his wand, and a friendly smile came to his lips. "Why can't you just trust me? We've always trusted each other in the past."

She shook her head, still gripping her wand tightly in her pocket. "I don't know who you are, but you are _not_ my friend."

His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. "Very well. I tried to make this easy for you, but I see you are determined to make things difficult. No matter, I can still extract the information from your mind."

He raised his wand as she whipped her own out from her pocket. Hermione fired a stunning spell at him, which he blocked, and then threw herself behind one of the shelves. She had been too slow, however, to stop his silent spell from taking hold of her. An invasive force penetrated her mind, forcing itself into her memories. Ginny's dying face flashed before her eyes, scattered with images of Draco and the baby girl sleeping inside the cave. Hermione used all her energy to push the intrusive force out of her mind, but she already knew it was too late. He had seen what he wanted, though her stunning spell had distracted him enough to stop him from getting the exact location of the cave.

Hermione remained hidden behind the shelf, trying to catch her breath. She could see Harry's boots not far from her through the gap between the floor and the shelf. She wondered why he was just standing there, and then a strange, muffled noise started, and she realised that Harry was laughing. He was _laughing_.

"What can possibly be so funny?" she snapped, casting her head around the shelf to look at him, more frightened than irritated. There was something seriously wrong if he found this situation amusing.

"The child," Harry said with a warped smile. "It's still alive."

Hermione frowned. "Shouldn't it be?"

Before he could answer, the door to the tent opened again and Remus Lupin walked in. He checked on the threshold, glancing from Harry to Hermione with a frown – a frown that only deepened when he saw the wands in their hands and finally registered Hermione's crouched, defensive position.

"What's going on?" he asked, staring at the two more suspiciously now.

Hermione seized her chance now that Harry was distracted and reached into her pocket, throwing what looked like coal dust towards the centre of the tent. Once it touched the ground, it exploded in a cloud of black smoke, smothering everything with a thick darkness. She scrambled up off the ground, still clutching her bag tightly, and then raced towards the entrance, grateful for her photographic memory that guided her blinded eyes. A hand found her elbow – Remus's – but she kicked him hard in the leg, forcing him to release her, and then she stumbled out of the tent.

A few of the people sitting around the closest fire stared at her oddly, but they did not appear too alarmed by her presence. Harry – or whoever that man was – must have put a silencing charm on the tent. She smiled at them and then hurried away, knowing there was no time for stealth. Remus shouted after her as he came out of the tent, and she broke into a sprint, heading straight for the blue barrier. The wizards and witches around the fires stirred, realising something was happening. Hermione increased her speed, knowing her only chance now lay in out-running them all before the rest of the camp was alerted to her presence.

"Hermione, wait!" Remus shouted.

The brunette cursed, realising he was gaining on her, and then, to the surprise of all who were watching, she simply disappeared.

Remus came to an abrupt halt, unable to believe what he was seeing. No one should be able to Disapparate or use a Portkey while still within the boundaries of the blue barrier. So how had she vanished?

"Where is she?" Harry growled, coming to stop beside him.

"I don't know," Remus said truthfully. "She just disappeared."

"What do you mean she just disappeared? She can't just disappear."

Remus gestured towards the expanse of dry land ahead of them where Hermione had vanished. "You tell me where she is then."

Harry frowned and ran ahead, stopping at the point where the brunette had last been seen. Remus followed him much more leisurely, also stopping at the spot where he had last seen Hermione. Just as he had expected, there was no sign of the witch, but then he glanced down and saw a set of feminine-shaped footprints imprinted on the dusty ground. They were spaced far enough apart to show that whoever the prints had belonged to had been running – and running fast.

Remus didn't need to follow the footprints to know that they would lead him to the blue barrier. He also didn't need to follow them to know that the brunette who had created them was already gone. Beside him, he saw Harry clench his hands into fists, emerald eyes smouldering with dark rage as the raven haired boy came to the same conclusion.

"She's gone," Harry observed, his mouth twisting as if he had just tasted something foul. He gestured to the footprints. "She must have cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself."

Remus ran a hand through his hair. "I don't understand. What did she want? And why did she run from us?"

"Who cares what she wanted. She's betrayed us, Remus."

"But—"

"She's betrayed us," Harry repeated, meeting the older man's eyes squarely. "She admitted as much to me herself. Hermione has joined with Ginny and Malfoy. That's why she ran, and that is probably why she was here – to collect medical supplies for them."

"I don't understand," Remus muttered, looking more haggard than ever. "Why would she join them?"

"I don't know, but I did manage to discover that they're hiding in a cave. If we get the trackers to follow Hermione's magical trace, we should be able to find where Ginny and Malfoy are hiding. Hermione won't be stupid enough to Disapparate too close to the cave – she knows I saw it – but it will at least give us a place to start."

Remus was silent for a moment, then looked at Harry worriedly. "Are you sure this is right?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "They betrayed us, Remus. What would you have me do?"

Remus sighed, knowing that Harry had a point. He just couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right about all of this. First Ginny, and now Hermione. Who would be next?

**OOOO**

It was quiet in the cave. Draco watched the shadows shift and dance on the walls, knowing the sun would be setting outside, cloaking the world in darkness. He glanced at the redhead beside him and a heavy crease formed on his brow as he saw that she was looking even paler than usual, her lips appearing almost blue against her skin. Her breathing had also developed a nasty rattling quality, like air being pushed through punctured lungs. He knew she was close to death.

Draco sighed, leaning back against the wall, wondering how much time they had left. Ginny's eyes were closed, but he knew she was not asleep. Not that it mattered. She was so physically weak and her mind so lost to delirium that there was no getting anything out of her anyway. Most of the time she just lay there, moaning and sobbing to herself, or calling for Pandora, whose welfare seemed to have taken an obsessive root in her mind. Very rarely did she realise that he was there, and when she did, she just clung to his hands like a small child, as if he was the only thing anchoring her to the world.

It was all so confusing. Draco didn't know what to think or feel, but he did know that he couldn't bear to see her die. Not like this. She was just wasting away, her mind only half clinging to reality while the rest of her was lost to nightmares and the demons that stalked her soul. It was painful to watch, and that twisting hole of agony and fear she had created inside him only intensified now that he knew she could slip from his grasp any moment and pass beyond the veil. Time was ticking down her life, just waiting for Death to come and snatch her away, and there was nothing Draco could do about it.

He sighed and placed his head in his hands, painfully aware of his own helplessness. He could only wait, hoping that Hermione would return. The brunette had been gone for a while now, and while he didn't exactly care if something happened to her, he did care if she never came back with those potions. He had to hope that Hermione was safe, for she was the only one who could save Ginny now.

Draco felt a cold hand touch his arm and glanced down to see Ginny staring up at him through hazy eyes, her blankets discarded next to her.

"Pandor—"

"She's fine," Draco interposed quickly, not wanting the redhead to use all her energy talking. "She's just sleeping, as you should be. You need to rest, Ginevra."

Ginny shook her head. "I don't want to rest. They'll find me if I do."

"Who will find you?"

But she had already lost interest in the conversation and was now pulling feebly at her petticoat, trying to tear it off, her expression fixed with child-like determination. Draco closed his hands around hers, holding them still.

"What are you doing?" he asked, frowning down at her.

"I'm so hot," Ginny complained, still trying to tug at her petticoat, even though he was holding her hands captive – hands that felt like ice against his.

"Removing your clothes won't make you feel better," he said frankly, knowing it was the fever that was causing her so much discomfort.

"Please," she begged, looking up at him pathetically, "it's so hot."

Draco sighed, knowing he'd never hear the end of it unless he appeased her, but he also did not want her to waste all her strength trying to remove her clothes herself. It was not the best decision, but there was nothing else he could do, so he released her hands and reached down to undo the lacing at the front of her petticoat. She stared up at him trustingly, which, oddly enough, made him feel more uncomfortable than the fact that he was undressing a dying girl.

He slipped the loosened sleeves down her shoulders, his hands caressing her arms as he dragged the material down past her breasts, creating a pool of dirty silk at her waist. There was nothing amorous about his actions, yet it was the nonsexual nature of the interaction that made his undressing of her feel somehow more forbidden, somehow more intimate. Draco avoided meeting her eyes.

Ginny allowed him to lift her slightly so he could pull the petticoat below her hips. He eased the cloth down her legs, then finally removed the petticoat and dumped it on the floor beside them. He hesitated before looking back at Ginny, conscious that she was now only wearing her underwear. She was still staring at him trustingly – so trustingly that it hurt something deep inside him. He quickly pulled the blanket back over her, and then her hand closed around his wrist, icy fingers imprinting into his skin. He glanced up, meeting her fever-ridden eyes. She smiled.

For a moment, Draco thought he could see clarity in those brown irises, but whatever truth he glimpsed only made him feel more unsettled. He abruptly stood up, breaking the hold she had on his wrist.

"You should get some rest," he said shortly, not looking at her.

Ginny sighed and collapsed back against the bundle of blankets. Draco waited long enough to see her eyes close and her body relax into its usual comatose state before he crossed to the other side of the cave to check on his daughter. He needed to do something to distract his mind.

Pandora was still fast asleep, just as she had been when he had left her three hours ago. Then again, she often did fall into deep sleeps. He couldn't help but note that she somehow seemed bigger every time she awoke from them as well. Was it possible that her magic was making the growing process speed up even more?

Draco stared down at the little girl, uncertain and afraid as he always felt when he looked at her. She was not a normal child – of that he was certain – but then what was she? And what would she become? It had only been a few days since the birth. Pandora should be tiny, given the usual size of newborns, but she was not tiny. She was growing. Even now she was growing, her little head gaining new strands of hair with every hour – or so it seemed to him. The only good thing was that her constant sleeping meant she didn't want to be fed as much. Still, he couldn't deny that she made him uneasy. She was his child, but being around her did not make him feel like her father. Not really.

He stepped back from the cot, frowning as he glanced towards the mouth of the cave. What was taking that stupid Mudblood so long? She should have been back by now. Did she want Ginny to die? If Lara were here—

But no, he couldn't think about Lara anymore. Wherever the older witch was, she was far from him. Besides, he didn't like to think that something had happened to her, and that was the only explanation he could come up with for her continued absence. He hadn't even realised how much he had relied on Lara until she had gone.

A bitter smile twisted his lips. Wasn't that the way he was with everyone. First his father, then his mother, then Lara, and now—

His eyes flicked back to Ginny, and a worried crease formed on his brow.

"Damn it, Granger," he hissed. "Where the hell are you?"

**OOOO **

It was dark when Hermione finally returned to the cave. She looked pale and shaken, but otherwise unscathed. Her eyes met his briefly, but she slipped past him without a word and set to work immediately on giving Ginny the potions she had stolen from the refugee camp. Draco did not like to be ignored, and since he had been feeling increasingly on edge, he did not bother to hide his frustration now.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded, bearing down on her like a revengeful angel. "Do you know how long I've been waiting? Ginevra is practically _dead _because of you!"

"I was being tracked," Hermione said shortly, measuring out a cup of red liquid he recognised as blood-replenishing potion. "Would you have rather I led them here to Ginny?"

Draco clenched his jaw, glaring at the brunette. "You should have been more careful. I told you not to talk to anyone."

"Well, it's a bit hard not to talk when Harry Potter barges in on you stealing potions and demands to know what you're doing." She forced open Ginny's mouth and poured the potion down her throat, ignoring the redhead's gurgles and choking.

A frown flittered across Draco's lips. "Potter? But isn't he in a—"

"Coma? Apparently not." Hermione placed the empty bottle on the floor, then started measuring out the next potion. "But whether he is indeed Harry Potter remains to be seen."

Draco held a hand to his head, feeling suddenly very confused. "What the hell are you talking about? Was it Potter or not?"

Hermione paused and turned to face him, and he was unnerved to see the fear in her eyes. "I don't know," she said, losing some of her brusqueness. "I honestly don't know. It looked like him, but when he said my name it was wrong – everything about him was just wrong. And he—he knows things that Harry never did. He knows how to use Legilimency – he even used it on me."

Draco's expression changed from confused to furious in a second. "_What_? What did you let him see?"

"I tried to block him as soon as I realised what was happening, but he still managed to discover that you, Ginny and the child are hiding together in a cave. That's why I took so long coming back here. I knew they would try to track me."

Draco grabbed her by the shoulders, glaring menacingly into her eyes. "Are you sure you lost them? Because if you've led them to us, Granger, I swear—"

"I lost them, alright!" she snapped, wrenching herself out of his grasp. "You won't be safe here indefinitely, of course, but you should have enough time to at least get Ginny back on her feet."

"You'd better be right," he said darkly.

"Of course I'm right," Hermione retorted. "Now shut up and give me some space, or I'll never be able to heal Ginny."

Draco did not like to appear as he if was doing someone else's bidding – especially a Mudblood's – but his concern for Ginny outweighed his pride, at least for the moment. He stepped back, letting Hermione resume what she was doing, though his eyes continued to watch her with dark intent. It bothered him that he had to rely on this girl. There was no doubt that he despised her, but her very presence only seemed to remind him of helpless and confused he was, and he hated that feeling of weakness even more. Nothing seemed to be in his control lately, and he hated the fact that he didn't seem to know anything of what was going on.

It was no wonder that he felt like screaming sometimes. Here he was, twenty-one years old, trapped in a cave with a woman he detested, wondering whether the mother of his child was going to live or not, while said child continued to grow at an abnormal speed and unnerve him with the powers he knew lay dormant inside her. And now he was suddenly supposed to accept that Harry Potter – who apparently wasn't really Harry Potter – was awake and behaving like evil incarnated, sending trackers after a girl who was supposed to be his best friend.

Draco placed his head in his hands, wishing that for once something would make sense to him. He hated feeling so useless, so utterly weak and out of control. Most of all, he hated not knowing what was going to happen next.

There was a sniffling sound from the cot. He sighed and got to his feet, walking over to Pandora and picking her up before she could start crying properly. It was in moments like this, when he was cradling her against his chest, feeling her small heartbeat thrumming against him, that he truly felt like her father. She needed him in these moments, gaining comfort from the simple solidness of his body and the sound of his voice. Sometimes, it made him uncomfortable, but right now he was glad for the distraction. It gave him something to do, almost a sense of purpose. It wasn't as if he could do anything for Ginny.

Draco glanced towards the redhead. She did have a bit more colour, but her breathing was still making that awful rattling sound. He promptly banished the thought that they were too late, refusing to believe that Ginny could die. She simply wasn't allowed to, and not just because he needed her to remove the curse from him. It was true that once he might have been concerned at how much he cared, but right now he couldn't even bring himself to so much as question his feelings. He was too much on edge, as if the slightest thing could snap the threads holding his mind together. After everything that had happened, it wasn't difficult to understand why.

Pandora's tiny hand pressed against his neck, and he felt a strange sense of calm spread over him, easing the tension bearing down on his consciousness. He flinched in surprise, meeting the baby's silvery-grey eyes in a mixture of awe and fear. Had she just used magic on him? Controlled magic?

She held his gaze, looking as innocent as a baby only could. Draco pushed the matter aside, thinking he must be imagining things. Besides, his daughter's magic was supposed to be the purest of dark magic. Whatever he had just experienced had been anything but, though it had left his skin crawling with how utterly _nice_ it had felt. It was almost as if something in him had been trying to fight against it, like white blood cells seeking to eradicate an unknown virus.

Pandora nestled her face into his neck, letting out a sleepy sigh. It was not long before she fell asleep again, cradled in his arms. He rocked her gently, trying not to dwell on the strange occurrence that had just happened. Enough was happening as it was; he didn't want to trouble himself further, not to mention the fact he knew very well it could have been a mere figment of his imagination. He'd barely slept for weeks now, and even he could admit that the grasp he had on reality was not exactly stable.

_Just drop it,_ he told himself sternly.

He stared back at Ginny, watching as Hermione bustled around the redhead with potions while muttering healing charms under her breath. Hermione glanced up at him from time to time, but she said nothing, and he had no desire to speak to her. All he wanted was for her to heal Ginny – all he cared about right now was that Ginny would be okay. But it was a long time before Hermione finally stepped away from the redhead, and even then she made no attempt to speak or even look at him.

"Well?" Draco demanded, refusing to be ignored this time. "How is she?"

Hermione gave a tired sigh. "I don't know, Malfoy. I've done what I can for her. Only tomorrow will tell if it has actually helped her or not."

"That's not good enough," Draco growled. "You said she would be fine with the potions. Now you're telling me that she still might die?"

"I don't know, alright. I've tried my best – that's all I can do."

He took a step towards her, his eyes dark and dangerous. "I don't think you understand, Granger. She _cannot_ die."

Hermione stiffened, taking umbrage at his suddenly menacing demeanour. "Trying to threaten me will not save her," she said bluntly. "I'm telling you that I did all I can. The enchanted sleep I've placed her in should make it easier for her body to recuperate, but there's no saying what will happen. She was practically on death's door – what were you expecting?"

Draco said nothing, knowing in some distant part of his mind that he was being irrational. But how could he help it? Ginny was dying. She was _dying_, and now that stupid Mudblood was telling him there was a chance that the potions might not work. It was a disturbing thought, for he couldn't help but wonder where that would leave him. He _needed_ Ginny – as much as he hated to admit it, he knew it to be true. Not just because of Pandora or because she supposedly was the only one who could remove the curse from him. He really did just need her, as inexplicable and confusing as the feeling was.

Draco glanced back at the redhead, his expression strangely vulnerable for all that it was closed. "She can't die," he murmured, more to himself. "She just can't."

It was a child's plea, sounding pathetic even to his own ears, but it was all he had.

Hermione let out a small breath. "I'm sure she'll be fine, Malfoy."

His eyes snapped to hers, an angry glint darkening the grey. He did not need some stupid Mudblood's sympathy.

"Yeah, well, if she dies it'll be your fault," he said spitefully. "If you had come back sooner, she would have been fine."

Hermione didn't seem to expect anything less from him and merely sighed again before settling down on her own bundle of blankets. For some reason, this annoyed Draco even more, but he didn't bother to say anything further to her. It wasn't as if he actually wanted to talk to her.

He lay down on the bed he had made beside Ginny's, watching her sleep. Silence settled in the cave, the only sound being the steady breathing of its four occupants. The fire was beginning to die, and he mumbled a spell at it with his wand, making it come to life again. He didn't want Pandora or Ginny to catch a chill.

"Malfoy," Hermione said after a moment.

"What?" he said shortly.

"Do you know anything about what happened to Harry?"

He sighed, rolling onto his back. "I only know that the Dark Lord put a curse on him four years ago, forcing him into a magical coma. I don't know anything beyond that, so there's no point asking me."

"Do you think he woke up because You-Know-Who is dead?"

"I don't know."

Hermione was silent for a moment. "Do you think it's possible You-Know-Who might have done something to him while he was in the coma?"

"I don't know," Draco repeated exasperatedly. "I don't know a bloody thing about what's going on, so stop pestering me with your stupid questions."

To his surprise, she actually listened and fell silent. However, her incessant queries about Potter had unsettled his mind, and it was he who eventually brought the matter up again. It had suddenly occurred to him that the Dark Lord had been very particular about keeping Harry Potter protected and healthy, even going so far as to command Draco to use special spells to heal Harry's wasted body while he had been held prisoner at the manor.

"You said there was something wrong about Potter, right?" Draco questioned, staring up at the roof of the cave. "What made you think that?"

She sighed. "I don't know how to explain it; it was just a feeling I had, I guess. He looked like Harry, he even sounded like Harry, but somehow I knew that he _wasn't_ Harry."

"Yes, but why?"

"I don't know. There were little discrepancies – intonations in his voice that didn't sit right, or the way he sometimes looked at me. It was too calculating, too smooth. And when he got angry—" She shuddered. "He was frightening."

Draco frowned. "Let me ask you this, then: if the man you saw isn't Harry Potter, then who is he?"

"That's what I keep asking myself, and I honestly don't know. But whether he's the real Harry or not, he most definitely isn't the friend I remember. This man is dangerous, and he wants Ginny badly."

Draco's eyes narrowed slightly. "I wonder . . ."

"What?"

"When he saw my daughter in your memories, what did he do?"

"He—well, he laughed, actually. I asked him what was so funny and he said '_the child is still alive'_."

Draco swore under his breath, even as his stomach plummeted sickeningly.

"What? What is it?" Hermione exclaimed.

"You're right, Granger," Draco said softly, "that man is not Harry Potter."

She was silent. "You know something, don't you?"

"I have my guesses," he admitted, "and if I'm right—" He laughed bitterly. "Well, if I'm right, we had all best hope that we never meet Harry Potter again."

"Why?"

"Because I don't think that he woke up simply because I killed the Dark Lord. I think he woke up because he _is_ the Dark Lord."


	17. The Face in the Mirror

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I really appreciate them. ^_^**

**Also, I want to give a huge thank you to Lia (Incognito) for beta-reading this chapter for me. You're a lifesaver! **

**The Face in the Mirror **

The smell of decay permeated the cell. Lara wasn't sure if it was coming from the rotting straw that littered the ground, the questionable lump of blankets in the corner, or her own battered body. She sighed and propped an elbow on her knee, resting her chin on her hand. There was a very small slit in the top right corner of the cell, giving just enough air for her to breathe and see, though not much else. In a way, the taunting whispers of fresh air blowing in through the concrete only made the scent of rot and death around her worse.

Her situation was ironic. She was a powerful witch with the gift to sense danger in both the present and future, but she had not seen this coming and now she was being held captive against her will by a madwoman. Savagely throwing a bit of straw at the wall, Lara winced as pain lanced through the limb. Biting her lip with a hiss, she rolled up her sleeve and wrenched off the strip of cloth covering the barely closed wound on her arm. The gash was gaining an ugly, greyish tinge, and the skin around it was swollen and inflamed, as if burnt with invisible fire.

"Wonderful," Lara muttered, retying the make-shift bandage around her arm and letting her sleeve drop back to hide the wound.

That was the worst of the lot, but she had cuts and scratches all over her—injuries that even now were steadily sapping her strength with the combined pain and loss of blood. She wondered if the Death Eaters would bother to heal her. She certainly hoped they would, for her arm felt fat with infection and, if not attended to soon, could easily end up needing amputation. The fact that it was her wand-arm just made it worse.

Lara exhaled noisily and let her head fall back with a crack against the stone, closing her eyes with sudden weariness. How many days had she been locked in here now? Four? Five? She was already losing count. She could blame it on the poor quality of the food, but the truth was that she was finding it difficult to concentrate on much of anything at the moment. The equilibrium holding the fate of the world together was so unbalanced that she was constantly plagued with headaches. She felt like a badly tuned aerial: her senses were distorted and disorientating, making it impossible for her to ascertain what was happening outside her cell, or even what would happen to her.

Of course she had tried to figure out whether Ginny, Draco, and the child were safe, but the migraines that had followed had made her almost pass out from the intensity. It worried Lara, but there was nothing she could do about it. She was trapped in this cell: helpless, sick, and useless.

Lara laughed humourlessly to herself. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

She had been too confident that her powers would spare her, and now here she was far away from Draco and Ginny—far away from achieving any of her goals. The child the prophecies called Pandora's Box would surely be alive by now—and growing more powerful by the day—but Draco and Ginny had no idea just how important that child was, or what danger they were in.

Lara ran a dirty hand over her face, perhaps hoping the movement could somehow wipe the weariness from her. She had spent years planning for this moment, yet just before she could set her plans into motion, somehow everything had gone wrong. Now she was rotting away in a cell while Draco, Ginny, and the child were being hunted from all sides: by Bellatrix and those rabble of refugees—

Her blue eyes narrowed at the thought. If there was one thing Lara could sense, it was that the man named Harry Potter was no more the saviour of the Wizarding world than Bellatrix Lestrange. Lara would know that presence anywhere, and while it bothered her that Voldemort was still alive—however limitedly—she had always had her suspicions concerning his connection with Harry Potter. From the first moment she had come in contact with the raven-haired boy, she had recognised that there was something wrong with his aura, and now she knew why. A piece of Voldemort's soul had been living inside him as a Horcrux, just waiting for the chance to awaken and fill the void.

Lara could have cursed herself for her blindness. She should have known Voldemort would have a back-up plan, but her senses had plainly told her that the Dark Lord would be killed by Draco, and so she had thought nothing more of it. Now she realised her stupidity. Her magic had been telling her the truth when it had suggested Voldemort would be murdered by his own servant; it had just forgot to hint that a part of the Dark Lord's soul was also lingering in another, stopping at least his spirit from being destroyed, even if his body suffered such a fate. Now that piece of soul was awake, and it would stop at nothing to complete the sacrificial ritual needed to gain the ultimate magic.

"You fool," Lara scolded, hitting her head once, twice, and thrice against the wall. "What is the use of all your gifts if you cannot even sense something as significant as this?"

"What indeed?"

Lara whipped her head round at the sound of the feminine voice and saw Bellatrix leaning against the stone wall, her arms folded and a disquieting smile on her face. There was no door to the cell—one had to use a spell to pass through the stone—so it was not surprising Lara had not heard the other witch enter, but that didn't stop her from feeling edgy and annoyed.

"What do you want, Bellatrix?" Lara demanded, dragging herself to her feet. She did not like the idea of sitting in such a vulnerable and subordinate position when around the other woman.

"Perhaps I simply came to see how you are," Bellatrix responded, pushing away from the wall and closing the distance between them. Her smile grew as she took in the shredded robe and the blood and grime caking Lara's skin. "Well, well, I don't think the men will be looking twice at you now."

Lara forced a smile. "Blame it on your poor hospitality, Bellatrix. All those years in Azkaban must have really done something to your skills as a hostess; I expect a dank cell like this feels like home sweet home to you."

Bellatrix's teeth gleamed in a humourless grin. "Clever, clever, but then you always were a clever one, weren't you, Lara?" She gave a hoarse laugh. "Of course, not quite clever enough to avoid being captured by my Death Eaters."

"Apparently not," Lara agreed with false politeness.

Bellatrix laughed again. "Always so composed. I'm going to have fun breaking you."

"But?" Lara supplied, filling in the silence.

Another smile. "Yes, there is a 'but'." Bellatrix walked a little away, losing some of her amusement as irritation began to reshape the lines on her face. "Draco has not come yet."

Lara had to repress a sigh of relief. "He won't come," she said. "You're wrong if you think he cares enough about me to risk coming back here."

The black eyes turned on her, wild and glowing with dark rage. "He _must_ come. My plan cannot be completed without him."

"What makes you think you'll be able to harness the power of Salazar's curse? The magic is embedded in Draco's soul; if you try to break those walls keeping it restrained inside him, gods know what might happen! Not even the Dark Lord dared to risk unleashing the full potential of the curse."

"Only because you told him not to," Bellatrix reminded her. "I'm not a fool, Lara. I know what I'm doing."

But she didn't. Lara could see that as clearly as she could see the madness controlling the other woman's mind. If Bellatrix had truly understood what she was doing, she would not dream of tampering with the magic locked away inside Draco. It was dangerous—_he_ was dangerous. If he lost control of the magic, there was no saying what would happen. All Lara could sense was death. Death everywhere, as if all of England would become a cesspool of blood and bodies.

"You can't do this, Bellatrix. Your dream to create a pure world will not be achieved through Draco. He will destroy us all."

"No, just those filthy Muggles and their unnatural, magic-thieving spawn."

Lara shook her head. "You're wrong, but it doesn't matter anyway. He won't come."

"Oh, yes he will," Bellatrix said with a mad gleam in her obsidian eyes, "because I'm going to give him something he can't resist."

"What?"

"Information." Her mouth curved into a smile, making the lines on her face more twisted than ever. "I'm going to let him know that we are holding you prisoner here."

"That won't be enough."

"Won't it?" She took a step closer, meeting Lara's eyes squarely. "Then why do you look so uncertain?"

Lara faltered, surprised that she had been read so easily. She tried to piece together her mask of composure, but Bellatrix only laughed.

"Don't bother. I don't need you to tell me that my nephew will take risks if the cause is important enough, and I do believe he feels strongly enough about you to take that risk. He's all alone out there with that stupid girl and most likely a newborn infant as well, and he knows we are hunting him. He'll crack eventually, and when he does, he will come looking for you. I'm just going to speed up that process by letting him know you're here for the rescuing."

Something cold and heavy settled in Lara's stomach. She knew Bellatrix was right. Draco was strong, but he wasn't _that_ strong; he was still young and in many ways inexperienced. He would come looking for her eventually, because she knew he would see no other alternative. Because she knew there really was no alternative. He could not survive without the knowledge she had to offer, but if he came here and was forced to comply with Bellatrix's wishes, there was no saying what would happen.

Lara met Bellatrix's obsidian eyes—eyes that were filled with madness and hate and triumph. For the first time, she realised there may be a chance she could fail. Bellatrix seemed so certain of herself, and for good reason. The odds were against them, and what little hope Lara had was now on its last breath. Everything was resting on Draco now.

_Please don't do anything rash,_ Lara thought desperately. _Please, Draco. You don't know the danger you are in._

**OOOO**

The cave was cold when Draco awoke the next morning. He glanced towards the fire and saw that the magical flames had been reduced to a few reddish-gold sparks, resembling the dying embers of a burnt log. He pushed the blanket off him and brought out his wand, bringing the flames back to full height. Light filled the small cave, chasing the darkness away so only a few shadows could take shape. There was a soft moan from his left, and he turned his head to see Ginny staring up at him through sleepy brown eyes.

"Draco?" she said hoarsely.

He was beside her in an instant. "What is it?"

His voice was clipped, but he could not disguise the concern in his eyes. He did not like to see her so ill, even though she did seem more aware than the last time he had spoken to her. Was it possible the fever was abating? She still looked pale and drawn, but she was no longer making those horrible little gasps with each breath she took. When she fastened her clammy fingers around his wrist, he could feel that her pulse had slowed, not nearly as erratic as before.

Ginny looked about dazedly as she tried to get her bearings, and then her eyes focussed back on him. "Water," she croaked, tightening her grip.

Draco conjured some water for her in a cup and helped her sit up so that she could drink. She leaned heavily against him, the cup trembling in her grasp as she tried to hold its weight. He closed his hand over hers, guiding the cup to her lips so that she could take a small sip. She coughed and spluttered, but she finally managed to drink the water and then slumped against him in an exhausted heap. Draco placed the cup down on the floor, still keeping his arm securely around her so she would not collapse.

"I'm so tired," Ginny complained, her voice muffled as she pressed her face into the nook between his neck and shoulder.

He could feel her lips brushing against his skin, sending warm whispers with every breath she took and tickling the faint hairs on his neck. Draco stiffened, conscious of her proximity and the way her body seemed to yield completely to his, so soft and delicate. He suddenly had the mad urge to thrust her away.

"If you're tired, you should get some more rest," he said instead, glancing down at the mass of tangled red, which was all he could see of her.

She mumbled something about not wanting to go back to sleep, yet her body relaxed even more against his, clearly deciding he would make a suitable head rest. Draco was having none of that and made to disengage himself from her, but her fingers clutched at his robe, closing directly around the material covering his heart.

"Just a little while," she slurred, already half-asleep.

Draco repressed a sigh. "I am not a pillow, Ginevra."

She didn't appear to hear him and simply nestled closer, her body curled up against his like a small child's. He knew he could have pushed her away, and in the past he certainly would have done so with no compunction, but something in him resisted the impulse. Instead, he waited until her breathing evened out and laid her back down on the make-shift bed, pulling the blankets up over her so that she would not get cold.

Draco watched her sleep for a moment and then rose to his feet. He thought he should probably check on Pandora, and turned to do so, when his eyes encountered Hermione's. She stared at him searchingly, her expression an odd mixture of suspicion and surprise. Draco's face hardened at the thought that she had been watching.

"What?" he asked sharply.

There was a challenge in his voice, daring her to say what she was thinking. Hermione held his gaze for a few seconds and then glanced at Ginny's huddled form.

"She seems to be doing better this morning," the brunette observed.

Draco shrugged. "I suppose."

There was a pause.

"I never knew she was so attached to you."

The grey eyes locked on Hermione's, cold and filled with warning. "She was just tired."

"And you?"

His jaw tightened. "Just what are you getting at, Granger?"

She shrugged. "I'm simply trying to place where you two stand with each other. You have a child with her, but you don't seem to act like a couple."

"That's none of your business," Draco muttered, walking past her and stopping in front of the crib where his daughter lay.

Pandora was still asleep, one hand balled into a fist under her chin, while the other lay palm up against the blankets, fingers clasping at the air. Blond curls smothered her head, almost reaching to her ears. He reeled back in shock as he realised that she had grown several inches during the night.

Hermione came to stand beside him. "Uncanny, isn't it?"

Draco steadied his breathing and cast a wary glance at the brunette. His fingers instinctively closed around the wand in his pocket.

"I checked on her during the night," Hermione continued, staring down at Pandora's sleeping form. "She had only grown a few inches then, but she seems to be even bigger now. It's really quite remarkable."

Draco's knuckles burned white beneath the material of his robe.

Hermione faced him, her expression grim. "How long did you think you could hide this from me?"

"Who says I was hiding anything?"

"Don't take me for a fool, Malfoy. I may be a lot of things, but I'm not an idiot. This child of yours is growing at an unnatural rate, and don't even get me started on her magic readings. I always had my suspicions, but now I know it's true. This is the child from the prophecy, isn't it? This is Pandora's Box."

Draco exhaled slowly, realising he could not maintain the façade any longer. "Yes," he admitted.

"Does Ginny know?"

"She doesn't know about the prophecy, but she knows the baby is powerful—more powerful than any of us."

Hermione stared at him sharply. "Is that why you had this child with her?"

"What?" he responded, barely keeping the growl out of his voice.

"You know exactly what I mean."

He let out a breath that was more of a hiss and turned to face her, his eyes dark and smouldering with thinly restrained anger. "I don't think that's any of your business, Mudblood."

Hermione met his gaze steadily, chin held high. "I'm only concerned for my friend."

"Yeah?" He leaned forward so that their faces were only inches apart, making her flinch back. "Well, you don't know a thing, so keep your filthy mouth shut."

"And what of the child? What are you going to do with her?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Just what are you suggesting?"

"She's dangerous. Surely you must know that."

He brought his wand out in a flash and pressed the tip to her temple, his eyes hard. "If you touch my daughter, I swear I will kill you, Granger. The only reason I've let you live this long is because Ginevra was dying and I needed your help."

Hermione straightened to her full height, trying to appear strong, but it was obvious from the way her eyes flickered from his wand to his face that she was nervous. "I'm not going to do anything to your daughter, if that's what you're worried about," she said with forced calm. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

Draco lowered his wand. "Know what I'm doing?" he repeated, as if testing the words. He gave a harsh laugh. "That's rich."

"Excuse me?"

He glanced back at her and a wry smile touched his lips. "Granger, I haven't known what I've been doing since the moment I fired that killing curse at the Dark Lord. I don't even know what the hell I'm doing here in this cave or why I'm bothering to protect Ginevra and this unnatural thing I'm supposed to call my daughter." He met her gaze, dark humour glittering in his eyes. "Yet here you are telling me that you hope I know what I'm doing."

Hermione stared at him wordlessly, stunned by his blunt admission. He gave another humourless laugh and then walked away, heading towards the entrance of the cave.

"Where are you going?" she called.

"I'm going to scout the area to see if anyone managed to track you this far."

"Do you think that's wise?"

Draco ignored her and exited the cave. Hermione sighed and watched his figure fade out of sight. She glanced back down at the sleeping baby. Pandora made a small noise and Hermione found herself being confronted by two silvery-grey eyes. There was so much intelligence behind that open gaze—so much depth and power. She could almost understand why Scrimgeour and the others had wanted to kill the infant, but even then Hermione knew she could not have condoned such an act. This child, for all her power, was still innocent.

"But what of the future?" Hermione mused, frowning down at the little girl. "What will you become then? And what will that mean for us?"

Her eyes flicked back to the cave entrance, and she wondered just how much she and Ginny really could trust Draco. It was obvious Ginny cared for him, but the blond was volatile and dangerous; the stability of his mind was pushed to the very edge. Hermione did not feel that his judgement could be trusted or even that he could be trusted. He was too secretive and his motives unclear—that alone made her suspicious.

"But I know one of your secrets, Malfoy," Hermione murmured to the absent blond. "You are the Jade Snake from the prophecy—the cursed one."

She had never been able to work out just what the curse of the Jade Snake had entailed, but she had discovered one thing: the magic he carried was also his death sentence. Hermione wondered if he knew. She found she cared little if he did not. Ginny was the one she was here to protect, not him. Hermione would let Draco work out his own problems.

"We'll do better without him, anyway," Hermione muttered.

Yet for all her indifference, her eyes returned to the cave entrance to where she had last seen the blond, and a few worried lines crept onto her face. She hoped he did nothing foolish. They might need him yet.

**OOOO**

Two days had passed. Ginny was slowly recovering, but she was still too weak to be moved. Tempers were strained from being stuck in such close proximity with one another, as well as the unspoken suspicion that lingered in the air. It wouldn't be long before someone snapped.

Draco stood on the edge of the hillside, staring down at the mist-shrouded forest below. Deep in thought, he held his wand loosely in his hand as a heavy frown marred his brow. Rain started to fall in light droplets from the sky, coating his skin with a fine sheen of water. He ignored the damp and turned to glance back towards the cave, back to where Ginny and his daughter lay hidden. Uncertainty flitted across his face, and he clenched his fingers around his wand so that he could feel his fingernails digging into his palm.

He didn't know what he was doing here. Why was he protecting Ginny? Why was he protecting that unnatural girl that the world dictated he call his child? He'd fare better without them. They were holding him back and putting his life in far more danger than was necessary. He could leave. He could leave right now. There was no one to stop him. And yet—

And yet Draco knew he couldn't leave. Somehow he had become bound to Ginny—even his daughter. Their fates were intertwined now. No matter how frustrated his situation made him, he could not abandon them.

Draco sighed and sat down on the ground, leaning back against the hard rock. He was still lost in his thoughts when he heard footsteps coming towards him. He turned to see Hermione staring down at him, hands clasped behind her back.

"So this is where you have been hiding," she observed.

"What do you want?" he muttered, looking back at the forest.

"We're running out of food."

"I suppose you're expecting me to go and find some more."

"No, you stay with Ginny and the baby. I'll get the provisions—there's not as many people searching for me, anyway, so it'll be easier for me to do it."

"Fine," Draco agreed, getting to his feet. "Don't let anyone follow you back."

"I won't."

He made to leave, but her voice stopped him.

"Malfoy."

He stared at her enquiringly.

"Be careful. They're still looking for you, you know."

Draco nodded in acknowledgement and watched as Hermione Disapparated with a small pop. He stood there for a moment, taking one last look at the undisturbed trees, and then he headed back inside the cave. Pandora demanded his attention as soon as she saw him, crying in a way he had quickly learnt meant that she wanted to be held. He picked her up and carried her for a while, but she kept squirming, almost dislodging herself from his arms. He sighed in exasperation and dumped her on the ground, leaving her to her own devices. Pandora didn't seem to mind her new position on the floor and, much to his surprise, stood up on her little feet and took a few wobbly steps towards him before falling on her backside. She grinned up at him, quite impressed with her achievement. Draco, however, looked nothing short of alarmed.

"Walking before she's even learnt to crawl," he murmured in awe, not quite able to keep the fear out of his voice.

What would this strange child do next?

He watched as Pandora stumbled around the cave, seeing the way she lengthened the time she managed to stay on her feet with each attempt, her expression fixed with determination. She fell back on her bottom again, and the silvery-grey eyes lifted to his as she let out a small gurgle of laughter. Draco felt a foreign warmth encircle his heart, but there was a coldness as well. The more he was with his child, the more he realised she was not normal. He leaned forward and gently pulled Pandora back to her feet.

"What am I going to do with you?" he murmured, looking down into her big grey eyes—eyes that were like his, yet not.

She made funny baby noises at him, and Draco sighed. In some ways she was such a child, but in others she was something frightening, almost monstrous. It was too confusing.

He glanced towards Ginny, and he wished in that moment that she would wake so he would not have to deal with this strange girl himself. He knew nothing about children, let alone highly developed ones such as theirs. Pandora was a frightening enigma that he was not certain he wanted to solve, but she was his child. The idea was ingrained in him now. She was his child, and somehow he knew he had to protect her. However, it would be nice to have some help—and not the patronising kind like what he got from the irritating Mudblood who had forced herself into their lives.

"Da da blugh da," Pandora gurgled, tugging at his robes and looking up at him with a baby's smile.

"I don't understand you," Draco mumbled tiredly, taking her small hand in his. "You can babble that nonsense to me all you like, but it means nothing to me."

She latched her hand around his finger, holding it fast. "Bleush."

Draco merely sighed and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes as his daughter continued to talk her incoherent baby language to him. He was not cut out for this father business.

_The sooner Ginny gets well, the better_, he thought.

Almost as if she had heard his private ruminations, Ginny made a low sound in her sleep and rolled over. Her hand nudged against his thigh as she flung out an arm. Draco opened his eyes and glanced at the redhead curled up asleep beside him. A faint crease formed on his brow as he saw the way her eyelashes fluttered in a frenzy against her cheek. He knew she was having the nightmares again.

"What do you dream about that troubles you so?" he murmured, curious to know what demons stalked her unconscious mind.

Ginny let out sharp breath and he saw the way her body slowly relaxed, easing into a more natural sleep. Perhaps the most frightening part of her dream had passed, but he knew the nightmares would return again. They always did.

He turned and saw Pandora staring at him through intense grey eyes.

"What?" he demanded. "What are you expecting me to do?"

"Glughrurush," she gibbered, and then reached out and placed her hand against her mother's face.

Ginny's eyelashes fluttered again as her breathing quickened, and her fingers tightened around the blanket near Draco's thigh; however, she did not wake. Draco stared at his daughter a little suspiciously. He snatched her away from the redhead, not liking the way Pandora had touched Ginny.

"I don't trust you one bit," he muttered, meeting his daughter's silvery-grey eyes.

Pandora held his gaze, looking innocent and childish as she always did. Draco didn't buy it.

There was another small noise from Ginny, and he stared back at the redhead in alarm, but it was only the nightmares again. Draco sighed and settled himself more comfortably beside her, still keeping a firm hold on his squirming daughter. He could feel the exhaustion burning behind his eyes, but he resisted the urge to fall asleep. Someone needed to keep watch, and he wasn't entirely comfortable at the thought of leaving Pandora to her own devices—especially after what he had just witnessed. It had looked like the little girl had been trying to do something to Ginny.

A shiver of unease crept through his body, but he pushed the feeling aside and clasped Pandora to his chest, feeling her small heartbeat drum in time with his own. Ginny's hand was still pressed lightly against his thigh, and for a moment father, mother, and daughter were all connected, yet it just felt wrong to Draco. Everything about this situation was wrong. Pandora should never have been born. He should never have shared that one night with Ginny Weasley. But he had, and what should never have been was now his reality.

"This is such a mess," Draco muttered, closing his eyes and banging his head against the wall.

He knew matters were slipping beyond his control, but he found he was too tired to care. Right now, his sole concern was with getting Ginny back on her feet so they could find a safer place to hide. They could worry about what to do with Pandora and the wizards and witches hunting them after that.

_Come on, Ginevra,_ he thought. _We need you to get better_.

**OOOO**

_Ginny sat trembling amongst a sea of bodies. Eyes, hollow and dead, stared up at her from mutilated faces—faces she herself had shredded apart with her knife over and over until she could no longer recognise them to be human. Her hands were stained with red, damning her as the murderer that she was. She could taste the blood, smell it with every breath she took—feel it becoming a very part of her as it seeped into her flesh._

_Why wouldn't it come off? She scrubbed and scrubbed, but the blood remained there on her skin like a tattoo—eternal, unavoidable._

"_I can't get rid of it," she whispered, shaking uncontrollably. "I can't get rid of the blood."_

_There was no hiding from it. Even when she looked in the mirror, all she saw was the red death staring back at her. _

"_No!" Ginny screamed. "This isn't me! I was good! I was _good_!"_

_A little girl with blonde hair and silvery-grey eyes smiled. "That's right, Mummy. You _were_ good, but what are you now?"_

Ginny sat up with a gasp, clawing wildly at the air where the little girl was still laughing at her. Hands immediately closed around her wrists, holding her arms down, and she glanced up to meet a pair of cool grey eyes. Draco's eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked roughly, yet there was concern in his voice as well, however disguised.

"I can't get it off," Ginny muttered, trembling in his hold. "There's blood everywhere, and I can't get it off me!"

She barely realised she was sobbing. In her mind, she could still see the faces surrounding her, grinning hideously in their disfigurement, and laughing through dead lips.

"Ginevra, there is no blood on you. You were just dreaming."

She shook her head. "It's always there, under my skin."

She made a wild move to try and claw at her arms, perhaps hoping that pulling her own skin off would remove the taint of murder from her. Draco tightened his grip on her wrists, keeping her in place.

"You're delirious," he accused, looking at her more worriedly now. "You need to rest, Ginevra."

"I don't want to rest," she whispered, trembling even harder. "Their faces are always there, watching me."

"Whose faces?"

Her eyes lifted to his, haunted and lost. "The faces of the people I killed."

Draco let out a small breath and loosened his grip on her wrists. Ginny buried her face into his chest and cried, her frame shuddering with deep, rib-splintering sobs. He remained frozen, neither pushing her away nor pulling her closer, but there was a troubled gleam in his eyes that hinted his heart at least was not as unresponsive as his body.

It was a long time before she finally settled down, and then he laid her back against the blankets without a single word before standing up and crossing to the other side of the cave. He could feel Ginny watching him, but right now he didn't want to face her. Seeing the wild despair in her eyes had triggered memories of his own life—memories he would rather forget.

More than anyone else, he understood the nightmares that plagued the murderer; he understood the fear and the self-loathing that accompanied such visions, the poisonous madness it created in one's mind, and he knew that one did not need to have come back from the brink of death to be overwhelmed. He had suffered for the deaths he had caused at first, but over the years he had learnt to bury those feelings, to shove his humanity and guilt deeper inside himself to the point where he felt just as dead as those he killed. That is until now.

Draco clenched his hands into fists. He abruptly turned and headed towards the cave entrance.

"Where are you going?" Ginny asked in a small voice, hugging her knees to her chest as she stared up at him through red-rimmed eyes.

Draco paused. "I'm going to see what's happening outside," he answered, not facing her. "I won't be long."

He didn't wait for her response and left the cave, letting out a deep breath when the cold air hit his face. The cave was making him feel claustrophobic. He couldn't stand being in there right now. Not with Ginny. Not with the memories.

Draco rubbed a hand over his face, feeling impossibly weary. He was so tired, but it was the mental exhaustion that truly crushed him. He could feel weight after weight bearing down upon his mind: his mother's death, his daughter's strange powers, his current situation, Lara's disappearance, Ginny—it seemed like it would never end. Something was breaking inside him, and he was afraid. What would happen if the threads holding him together finally snapped? Would he simply dissolve into dust, ready to be carried wherever the wind would take him?

He gritted his teeth. No. He was not so weak. He had never broken before, and he would not break now. He could do this. He could be strong. He didn't need Lara to help him. He didn't need anyone.

Draco stared out towards the forest and his eyes narrowed as he saw something moving at the bottom of the hillside. No, not something: _someone_. The person moved stealthily up the hillside, and as Draco watched he saw more figures emerging from the trees, heading directly towards the cave.

He swore under his breath and turned to go back inside when a loud crack sounded from beside him. Draco had his wand out in a second. He spun around, a curse already leaving his lips, when he recognised the bushy-haired witch holding her wand at him. Draco fell silent and the red glow surrounding his wand slowly died.

"Gods, you could have killed me!" Hermione exclaimed, relaxing her tense posture and lowering her wand.

Draco ignored her glare. "We've got problems."

"I know. They've found us."

"Did they follow you?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. It was the refugees tracking me. These look like Death Eaters."

Draco swore again and dragged her with him back inside the cave, making sure to put up as many misdirection charms as he knew around the entrance.

"Do you really think that is going to work?" Hermione asked wryly, though she joined him in putting up the spells.

"It will save us some time at least."

"What's going on?"

They both turned to see Ginny sitting up in the bed, staring at them through troubled eyes.

"Nothing," Draco responded. "It's nothing, Ginevra. Go back to sleep."

Hermione leaned closer to Draco. "We can't stay here," she said under her breath so that the redhead could not hear.

"I can hold them off," he muttered.

"Don't be stupid. You don't even know how many of them are out there, and it's obvious they know where we are hiding."

Draco clenched his fingers around his wand, frustrated but knowing that she was right.

"We have to get out of here, Malfoy. Ginny and Pandora cannot stay here."

"I know," he sighed, "but where can we go? Ginevra is still weak, and Pandora is only a baby. It will be dangerous to Disapparate or even use a Portkey, and we certainly can't go by foot."

Ginny got up and walked over to them, still clutching a blanket around her small frame. Her eyes, however, were far from feeble. In them was suspicion, but there was also anger.

"What are you hiding from me?" she demanded, glaring at them both. "Tell me what's going on? I may be ill, but I'm not stupid!"

Hermione sighed. "The Death Eaters have found us, Ginny. They're coming for you now."

Ginny paled and some of the fire died out of her eyes. "But how could they know we're here? How could they have found us?"

"No one can hide forever," Draco muttered. "There are ways to trace a person with magic. It was only a matter of time."

"What are we going to do?" Ginny asked, turning to him and clasping onto his arm as if he was sure to have all the answers.

Draco shook her hand off, looking the other way. He didn't know what to do. Everything was happening too soon. He had never been the hunted—always the hunter. He didn't know how to hide and protect; he only knew how to kill, how to hurt.

"We're just going to have to risk using a Portkey," Hermione said quietly. "It's the only way."

Pandora started crying, seeming to sense the uneasiness and fear filling the cave. Ginny crossed to the crib and picked up her daughter, holding the small child in her arms. She looked strangely fierce in that moment, despite the pallor of her skin and the black circles hollowing her eyes.

"Then let's go," Ginny said firmly. "If we're going to leave, we should leave now."

"It's not that easy," Draco interjected. "We need a safe place for our destination if we're going to use a Portkey. Do you know of any safe places?"

"I do," Hermione said suddenly. "There's an old archive in the Highlands of Scotland that hasn't been inhabited in years—it's practically in ruins. It was the last place I was hiding in before I came here. We could go there. I'm sure it would be safe."

"Fine," Draco agreed. "You make the Portkey since you know where we're going. I'll pack the supplies."

Hermione nodded and picked up the cup that had been lying near her feet. "_Portus_," she murmured. The porcelain glowed with a faint blue light. "It's done," she continued turning to face them, "but we'll have to be quick: the Portkey will activate any moment now."

Draco used his wand to pack the rest of their belongings into the two bags he and Lara had prepared before leaving the manor. Hermione had her own bag, which also had the food she had collected while she had been away. Ginny was still clutching Pandora in her arms. She turned to Draco now, her face pale.

"Do you think they'll be able to follow us?" Ginny asked.

"I don't know, but I hope not," he responded, slinging the bags over his back.

"I'm scared," she admitted.

Draco met her eyes steadily. "I won't let them hurt you, Ginevra. Now come on before the Portkey activates without us."

She nodded and followed him to where Hermione was standing with the transfigured cup. Draco was about to touch his hand to the Portkey when he heard a familiar voice call out to him from outside the cave.

"Malfoy, I know you're hiding in there, so how about you just make this easier for all of us and come out so we can talk! I have some information I think you will want to hear!"

"Tyberius," Draco growled, turning to look at the entrance.

He could see the dark-haired wizard peering in, but the Death Eater could not see them because of the spells that had been placed around the cave. It was an unsettling situation. Draco heard Ginny gasp from beside him as she also saw the man's face. She pressed herself closer to Draco, as if seeking protection.

"Oh, come on, Draco. I promise we won't hurt you," Tyberius continued, smiling confidently into the darkness he could not penetrate. "I'm only here to give you a message from your aunt."

Draco removed the silencing spell around the cave so he could reply, though still left the Death Eaters blind. "If you've come to say your message, then say it. I can hear it just as well from in here."

Tyberius chuckled. "I _knew_ you were in there. Very well, my message is this: first, your aunt Bellatrix misses you and hopes you will return."

"I think I'll pass," Draco said dryly.

There was another laugh. "I thought you might say that, so Bellatrix also told me to tell you this: your little Seer friend is being held captive at headquarters. We're taking excellent care of her, but I'm sure she would love to see you again. After all, who knows how long she'll last? Your aunt's prisoners aren't exactly known for their longevity."

Draco clenched his fingers tightly around his wand, making his knuckles burn white.

Hermione locked gazes with the blond. "Malfoy, put your hand on the Portkey."

"They have Lara," Ginny whispered, staring in the direction of the Death Eaters with a pained look. "She got caught because of me."

"Damn it, we don't have time for this!" Hermione growled.

Draco suddenly found his hand being wrenched back in a hard grasp, forcing his fingers to touch something warm yet cold. There was a jerk at his navel, and then the world was spinning around him in a chaotic blur. He got a brief glimpse of the Death Eaters barging into the cave, obviously having succeeded in breaking the charms barring the entrance, but then their world started spinning even faster and the cave and the Death Eaters were no more.

The four fugitives were gone.


	18. A Truth Revealed

A/N:Sorry for the wait. I was determined to get _Domino_ finished, but it ended up taking longer than expected. Then I just got busy and my muse decided it would be more fun to pester me into starting an original novel. So, uh, yeah, I've been working on that rather than fanfiction during my writing breaks. I will say again, however, that I will _not _be abandoning this fic. Believe me, I'm not about to give up on this story now that it's finally getting to the good stuff. ^_~

That said, thanks so much for putting up with my sporadic updates. You've all been lovely! I could not have asked for more patient or understanding readers. Also, I want to give a huge, huge thank you to Leigh for beta-reading! As always, your comments and suggestions are invaluable.

* * *

**A Truth Revealed**

Ginny clutched Pandora to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut as the walls of the cave spun round and round and round, blurring into an unrecognisable mess. The motion was making her feel nauseous, and she could feel elbows and shoulders bumping into her as she and her companions were jostled about from the intensity of the magic. She knew that if the spinning didn't stop soon, she was going to throw up.

Suddenly, the Portkey released her from its hold and she stumbled as she was dropped into what appeared to be a small grove of trees. Her shoe slid in something wet and slippery, and she would have toppled over completely had someone not gripped her by the shoulder and steadied her. The sharp lurch of her stomach was less easy to remedy.

"Careful," Hermione warned, removing her hand from the redhead's shoulder. "You don't want to lose your footing around here."

Ginny looked down and saw that the ground was smothered in white, though the snow barely concealed the rocks and shrubs that stuck up like vicious traps from the earth. So that was why it felt so cold, and why she had slipped. She tightened her arms around Pandora, trying to fight off the chill that crept into her bones and knowing it would be that much worse for the infant in her arms. To her left, Draco seemed to be standing in the same spot where the Portkey had placed him. Ginny was surprised to see that he had his hands clenched into fists and was staring at Hermione through narrowed eyes.

"Why did you do that?" he growled. "You just ruined any chance we had of getting more information about Lara!"

Hermione readjusted the straps of her backpack. "You should be thanking me," she said coolly. "I just saved your life."

Draco gritted his teeth. "I don't need your help, Mudblood. I can take care of myself."

"Clearly. That's why you were about to let yourself be caught by those Death Eaters."

"I had it under control."

She gave a hard laugh. "What you had, Malfoy, was a one-way ticket to your aunt. Or are you so blinded by your arrogance that you can't see that your Death Eater friends were setting up a trap for you?"

His eyes glittered dangerously, but it was Ginny who responded.

"Oh, enough!" she cried, glaring at them both as she huddled with Pandora under her blanket. "We're not going to achieve anything by arguing with each other! What's done is done. Now can we please just keep moving? It's freezing out here, and if you haven't forgotten already, Pandora is only a baby."

Hermione glanced at the shivering infant and looked a little abashed. "You're right. I'm sorry, Ginny." She reached into her backpack and pulled out a coarse woollen blanket that seemed to have been made with any scrap of wool at hand, regardless of colour or pattern. "Here, you can wrap this around her for the mean time."

Ginny accepted the mottled thing and draped it around Pandora, who had got much heavier now that she had reached the size of a nine-month-old baby. Thankfully, the blanket was large enough for Ginny to cover her daughter's tiny bare feet and hands, which were already beginning to feel like ice to touch. Out the corner of her gaze, she could see Draco watching this process with an unreadable expression on his face, but the muscle ticking in his jaw belied his composure. Ginny knew that he was still annoyed. He had never liked people interfering in his business; the fact that it was Hermione who had stepped in and dragged him to this godforsaken place just made it that much worse.

Something cold touched Ginny's cheek, and she looked up to see that it was snowing again—and getting worse by the second. As if on cue, Pandora started to cry in a high-pitched, peevish sort of way, clearly disliking the new climate. Ginny winced and gritted her teeth. The combination of a screaming child, her companion's bickering, and her own exhaustion was all too much, and she was suddenly overwhelmed with an absurd desire to burst into tears. She resisted the urge, knowing that she had to be strong, but the hard grey eyes that watched her did not miss the flicker of distress that passed over her features.

Draco turned to face Hermione. "You said there is an old archive somewhere around here, right?" he asked in a clipped voice.

Hermione nodded. "It's just up ahead. I had to set the Portkey to bring us here because of the wards protecting the place."

"Then take us there."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, no doubt taking umbrage at his dictatorial tone. "This way," she said, sparing a brief glance at Ginny before she turned and headed north.

Ginny made to step forward, but Draco held out his arm, barring her path.

"I'll take the baby now."

The way he said it made it sound like an order, and something in her instantly bristled at the command.

"I am perfectly capable of carrying my daughter by myself," she retorted, lifting her chin.

"We don't have time for this, Ginevra. Just give me the baby."

"That _baby_ has a name, and since you and Hermione are clearly too focussed on arguing with each other to care about what happens to her, I think it is best that I keep Pandora with me." Ginny's mouth twisted into a scowl. "At least she won't freeze to death that way."

Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. "Look, you're still too weak—"

"I'm not dying, Draco!" Ginny interjected, gritting her teeth. "Just let me do this! Let me—" she looked away and her voice softened to a murmur, as if she were speaking more to herself "—just let me do _something_."

He stared at her for a long moment and then he simply nodded his head. Ginny was embarrassed that she had revealed so much—of the fears she felt of being useless and that she was just a burden to the group now that she had given birth and had no important role to play—but she could not take the words back. They were real and they were hers, and she could only be grateful that he chose not to push the matter further.

"We'd better get moving," Draco said after a moment. "We'll lose track of Granger if we don't hurry."

Ginny nodded and took a firmer hold on Pandora as she began to make her crunching way through the snow, Draco following at the rear. It was not a pleasant trek. Every step was like walking into a bucket of ice, and Ginny could feel the dampness of the snow seeping through into her shoes, making her feet wet and her toes numb. Not for the first time did she curse the dainty footwear she had been provided with at the manor. The shoes had been painful to walk in while marching across the wastelands in search of the Refugee Camp; they were even more of a nightmare to wear when tramping through several inches of snow—especially since she was unable to use spells to ease the numbing pain. Hermione and Draco had both made it clear that no wands were to be used until they were all safely inside the archive; should the trackers crack the magical codes that blocked the coordinates of the Portkey, the magical traces left by the spells would just lead the Death Eaters straight to their position.

Ginny bit her lip, trying to ignore the unpleasant stinging that attacked the nerves in her feet—the only feeling she could register. A cool breeze whipped at her cheeks, tangling in her hair and tugging at the quilt she was using as a shawl, as well as the mottled blanket she had bundled Pandora in like a cocoon. The little girl whimpered and buried her face into Ginny's chest, trying to siphon as much warmth as possible.

"Shh," Ginny said soothingly, rubbing Pandora's back through the blanket. "It's okay, Pan. We'll be there soon."

"Pan?"

Ginny turned and saw Draco staring at her with a slight crease on his brow. She hadn't even realised that he had moved up to walk beside her.

"I thought it would make a good nickname," she said with a half-hearted shrug. "Why, you don't like it?"

"I never really thought about it," he admitted. "We didn't have nicknames in my family, or at least my parents never called me by one."

For a moment Ginny was too surprised to respond. It was the first time Draco had willingly shared information about himself, let alone his family. She realised that she knew very little about the blond—not his past, not how he had become a Death Eater, not anything. All she knew was from what she had gathered through rumours and the few glimpses she had caught into his life when they had shared memories. It was a little unsettling, yet the very secretiveness with which he surrounded himself was also part of what drew her to him. He was such a mystery to her, like an unknown jigsaw puzzle that begged to be put together, but sometimes she wondered if the image at the end would be the one she wanted. Sometimes, she wondered if there were some mysteries best left unsolved.

Their eyes met, and she saw the little creases sharpen on his brow. It was difficult to know what he was thinking; he stared at her so intently, yet he also seemed to be looking beyond her, as if her eyes had opened a window to a vision only he could see. She wondered if he was thinking about his parents and the life he had once shared with them, but then his gaze fell on the mop of blonde curls sticking out from the blanket—which was all he could see of Pandora—and just like that the creases disappeared. The moment was gone.

"We should keep walking," Draco said finally. "All this snow can't be good for the baby."

Ginny sighed in acquiescence and continued to trudge after Hermione's retreating figure. "It shouldn't even be snowing," she said in a long-suffering voice. "It's only just coming into winter."

"You forget we're in the Highlands." Draco stared at the dark shadows rising far above the trees and which found peak among the stars. "And judging by our surroundings, I'd say we're probably on some kind of mountain range. Maybe in the Cairngorms."

"Oh, that's really comforting," Ginny grumbled, stomping ahead of him.

Her foot got caught on one of the rocks that had been hidden by the coverlet of snow and she let out an odd little gasp as she felt her balance falter. There was a moment where every muscle in her body tensed, and she watched as if in slow motion as the blanket slipped free from her shoulders and fluttered past her like a magic carpet; then the world began to tilt, plunging her towards a wall of white. In some distant part of her mind she thought that she would have to land on her back so that Pandora would not feel the full brunt of the collision. Except the impact never came.

Ginny took in a shuddering breath as she became aware of the warm, masculine body pressed up against her back. She was still staring straight ahead, but the fact that she could only feel Draco's presence somehow made the experience all the more intense. Her already racing heart began to drum in an erratic beat against her ribs, and she could feel his breath tickling the sensitive skin on her neck, reminding her of another time when he had placed hot, open-mouthed kisses on that same spot, among other things.

Very slowly, Draco released his grip on her waist and stepped away from her. The loss of his warmth hit her like a cold slap. She wanted to pull him back to her—to mould herself to every inch of his frame and sink deeper into the heat that emanated from his body. He had been so alive, so warm and solid. She had almost forgotten how good it felt to be close to him.

"I think it's about time you let me carry Pandora now," Draco said flatly, and circled around to face her so that he could take the bundle from her arms.

Ginny stared at him unseeingly, still trying to process the bewildering mixture of feelings that filled her breast. The hands that uncurled her fingers didn't register to her mind, but the moment he tried to lift Pandora away had her tightening her grip.

"No!" Ginny snatched Pandora back to her chest and looked so fierce that she could have been a dragon protecting her eggs. "I told you that I will carry her myself."

Draco folded his arms. "Don't be ridiculous, Ginevra. You can barely walk yourself, let alone carry a baby."

Ginny opened her mouth to retort, but Draco would not listen to her objections. He told her that she was being stubborn and childish and that he was not about to let their daughter get hurt simply because she was too idiotic to see that the task of carrying Pandora was beyond her strength. Another woman might have got upset after hearing such a speech—and Ginny certainly did—but she had also been around Draco long enough to suspect that this was his way of saying that he was worried about her. That, and she could tell by the mulish look about his mouth that he was not going to let the matter drop, regardless of how many times she assured him that she was fine and that he had no right to order her around like some common soldier.

Admittedly, his disguised concern wasn't sufficient to mollify her completely, but it did soothe her temper enough for her to relinquish Pandora to him on the stipulation that he take good care of their daughter. Draco merely rolled his eyes and recommended that she watch where she was walking, because if anyone needed help here it was her, but Ginny didn't let this Parthian shot bother her. His secret was out: he _cared_, and while she had no intention of letting him coerce her into a state of doll-like uselessness again just because he thought her weak, it was nice to know that he wasn't exactly indifferent to her state of health either.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she started lagging behind and Draco immediately stopped and demanded if she was alright. By this point Ginny was feeling very tired, numb, and was not at all certain that she could take another step. Her legs trembled like jelly, and black dots kept swarming before her eyes, blurring her vision. Apparently, it had not been a good idea to walk unaided for so long after so closely escaping death.

"Ginevra, are you alright?" Draco repeated, shifting Pandora so that the little girl was resting against his left shoulder.

Swaying a little, Ginny clutched her blanket to her chest and held her other hand to her head. "I—"

But whatever she was going to say was lost on the wind and she simply crumpled to her knees, looking like no more than a splash of red against the snowy ground. Draco swore under his breath and shouted out for Hermione. He dashed over to where Ginny had fallen, keeping a firm grasp on Pandora to avoid jolting her as he ran. Ginny had not fainted, but she was resting on her hands and knees and sucking in deep breaths, trying to let the dizziness pass. Draco took one look at her and sighed in an exasperated sort of way that suggested he knew very well they could have avoided this situation if she had just stopped being so stubborn.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, jogging over to stand beside the blond.

Draco handed Pandora to Hermione and, without a word, reached down and scooped Ginny up into his arms so that he was holding her bridal-style. She mumbled that she was fine and didn't need to be carried—that the dizziness would pass in a second—but Draco ignored this weak protest and simply took a firmer grip on her legs. Ginny stopped resisting after that and, indeed, could only be grateful for his support. Her head was beginning to pound again and her stomach was twisting into unpleasant knots. She knew if she tried to push herself any further that she would pass out.

"You'll have to carry Pandora until we reach the archive," Draco said to Hermione. He glanced down at the woman in his arms and his voice took on a faintly sardonic drawl. "Ginevra doesn't seem to know when she's had enough."

Ginny met the grey eyes that stared at her so challengingly, but she was still feeling too ill to rise to his bait. Instead, she hid her face against his chest, shutting out the world and the tightly controlled voices of her companions, who were now trying to blame each other for not thinking to come to her aid earlier. Something pulsed in a steady beat against her cheek, and a smile touched her lips as she realised it was Draco's heart. She'd never be able to think of him as heartless again after this.

"Enough of this!" Draco interjected, before Hermione could accuse him of any more acts of thoughtlessness. "What I want to know is how much further we have to walk before we get to the archive. You said it was just up ahead."

"It _is_ just up ahead." Hermione pointed at the collection of snow-tipped pine trees to the north while still keeping an arm securely wrapped around Pandora. "The archive is just beyond those trees."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

Draco strode forward on his words, leaving a scowling Hermione standing behind. Ginny inwardly sighed and wondered if the two of them were going to keep bickering like this the whole time they were travelling together. She knew that it was in Hermione's nature to want to take charge—and to resent anyone else who tried to boss her into action—but Draco could be as equally, if not more, domineering. Only Lara had ever managed to keep him in line. Lara, who was now being held captive by the Death Eaters.

Ginny frowned as she thought of the eccentric yet powerful witch who had once acted as their guide. There were moments when Ginny had not been certain if she could trust Lara, but now that the older woman was gone—captured by Bellatrix and probably soon to be executed—all of those doubts no longer seemed to matter. For Ginny realised that she missed Lara: from the impatient way the brunette tossed her hair over her shoulder to her infamous scolds, which not even Draco had managed to escape. It seemed so long since Ginny had heard herself be called 'girlie'. It was a sobering thought to think that no one might do so again.

_We have to get her back._

"What?"

Ginny started in surprise and raised her head from her burrow to see Draco frowning down at her. She realised that she must have spoken aloud.

"It's nothing," she answered, readjusting her arms around his neck and leaning her face back against his chest. "I was just thinking about Lara."

Draco was silent for a moment. All Ginny could hear was the crunch, crunch of his boots against the snow.

"She won't last long if it's true that my aunt is keeping her prisoner," he said flatly, keeping his gaze fixed ahead. "Bellatrix has always hated Lara."

"Why tell you that Lara is being held captive at all, then? It doesn't make much sense if they're planning to kill her."

A hard glint entered his eyes. "Because they're hoping I will try to rescue her."

Ginny stared up at him intently. "And will you?"

Draco said nothing, though his jaw remained tight with tension. She remembered how upset he had been when the Portkey had first dumped them in the clearing. There was no doubt that frustration was still festering inside of him. He had hoped to have got more information out of the Death Eaters; information that would only be useful if he was already planning a rescue mission. In that, Ginny knew she had her answer. Whether Draco admitted it aloud or not, he had not given up on Lara. Not yet.

Ginny frowned and returned to her burrow, letting his heartbeat play in a soothing lullaby against her cheek. "I wish there was something we could do to help her," she said, more to herself. "I feel like it's my fault Lara was caught. She was only trying to protect me."

Draco exhaled softly. "We don't know what Lara was thinking when she got caught by the Death Eaters, but we have to trust that she knew what she was doing when she stayed behind."

"But you know her powers aren't infallible," Ginny argued. "Look at what happened with the Dissenters."

Draco gritted his teeth. "That is something that I have been trying not to think about."

"Because she's in danger?"

"And other things," he admitted.

Ginny sighed. "So you don't trust her either."

Draco shook his head. "I don't think it's possible to ever really trust someone like Lara, but I do know that she has saved my life more times than I care to admit." He met her eyes steadily. "I don't think that Lara has betrayed us, Ginevra." A crease formed on his brow and he looked past her to stare at the snow-laden pines. "That's what worries me."

Suddenly, something shifted in his expression. Ginny followed his line of vision and saw the shape of an old, run-down building through the gaps in the trees. A smile curved her mouth.

"I think we've reached the archive," she observed.

Draco nodded and glanced over his shoulder to see how Hermione was doing with Pandora. The hiccupping little sobs coming from the mottled blanket suggested it had not been a pleasant trek for the brunette. Ginny was almost glad that she had half-fainted now—anything to have a break from Pandora's crying. It was a sound that would try the patience of even the most affectionate mother.

"Oh, Good. We finally made it," Hermione said, coming to stand beside them. "There are anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards all around the place, but we should be able to pass through safely enough on foot."

"Should be able to?" Draco queried, raising an eyebrow.

"That was a poor choice of words," Hermione admitted. "What I meant to say was that we _will_ be able to pass through the wards safely on foot. Trust me," she added, when he continued to look at her sceptically, "I've been through here plenty of times."

"You'd better be right," Draco muttered.

"I'm sure Hermione knows what she's doing," Ginny remarked, somewhat chidingly. "She's lead us this far, hasn't she?"

Draco said nothing, but then neither witch expected him to do as much; it would be against his code to admit that Hermione had come in use.

"Let's just keep moving," Hermione said tiredly, exchanging a brief glance with Ginny before walking ahead.

Without a word, Draco followed the bushy-haired witch towards the archive, careful to make sure he didn't slip as the ground began to slope. Ginny tightened her arms around Draco, pressing herself closer to his chest. She had resisted being held by him at first, but now that she was here in his arms she didn't want the feeling to end. These moments of physical intimacy were so rare, and she knew that once they got to the archive he would get distant and be reluctant to touch her again. For now, however, he was willing to hold her. For now, she could share in his warmth and imagine that it was a desire to be close that had driven him to carry her and not simple pragmatism.

It was a silly daydream perhaps, but then so much had changed since he had rescued her from the Isolation Chamber. Her memories of that time after she had given birth to Pandora were vague and riddled with feverish delusions, but there were bursts of clarity: moments where she remembered how gently Draco had washed the blood from her thighs; how he had helped her to eat and drink for days afterwards without complaint, and how he had held her in his arms while she sobbed as nightmare after nightmare haunted her waking eyes. She couldn't just ignore those moments. Draco might be a cruel and unfeeling man, but she understood now that he was also very human. There was a heart in that impenetrable breast; she could feel it beating with life against her cheek. She just wondered if there was room in his heart for her as well.

She was still pondering over the matter when they broke through the trees and found themselves confronted by a mass of crumbling stone and jagged ridges. It seemed like part of the roof had caved in at some point, giving the archive a lopsided look. Half of the building had managed to survive relatively unscathed; however, Ginny could see that there were holes carved into the walls, looking unnervingly like gaping mouths waiting to crush any who dared to enter. Bits of rubble littered the snow, converging in a carnage of broken masonry where the door should have been. It was like staring at the remnants of a bloody massacre.

"What happened here?" Ginny asked.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "It was like this when I first found it four months ago. I'm assuming some kind of battle took place, but—"

"I don't believe it," Draco exclaimed in a choked voice, tightening his hold on Ginny in his surprise. "This is the Thurkell Archive."

Ginny frowned up at him. "What?"

"You know what this place is?" Hermione demanded, shifting her attention to the blond.

Draco nodded absently. "I read about it in a book once. It all started when the Muggle-born Protection Acts were first being created and it was deemed acceptable for non-purebloods to become citizens of the magical world. There was a faction of purebloods who didn't want to share their knowledge with the Muggle-borns, so they built this archive and kept their records a secret from the rest of the world. The archive was so well protected that it was said to be impossible to find unless you were given the exact coordinates by the Secret-Keeper. Not even the Ministry knew its true whereabouts."

"Well, it looks like someone found the archive eventually," Ginny observed, staring back at the broken-down building. "This place is in ruins."

Draco shook his head, still transfixed by the run-down building in front of him. "I still can't believe it," he said more to himself. "My father was obsessed with the Thurkell archive. He spent decades collecting books and scrolls about it, hoping to one day find its location. To think, it was here this entire time." He suddenly turned on Hermione. "How did _you_ find it?"

By the disdainful tone of his voice, it seemed he found it difficult to believe that a Muggle-born like Hermione could have discovered one of the most highly-guarded pureblood secrets in wizarding history. Hermione's expression hardened, but she chose to ignore the insult.

"I met a woman while I was searching for a cure to stop the disease killing the Muggles," Hermione explained while gently rocking Pandora, who had restarted her snivelling. "She seemed interested in what I was doing and told me she knew of a place that might help me with my research. Just before we parted, she created a Portkey for me and gave me a piece of parchment with some coordinates. That was how I found myself here." A crease formed on Hermione's brow. "Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure she said her surname was Thurkell."

"Thurkell, as in like the archive?" Ginny asked, lifting her eyebrows.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, that was definitely her name. Lara Thurkell. Perhaps Malfoy is right and you can only find this place if you are given the right coordinates by the Secret-Keeper. That would certainly explain why no one has bothered to come back here to steal the records like what happened at all the other archives I've searched. It wouldn't even matter if—"

"Wait a minute," Draco interjected, narrowing his eyes. "What did you say?"

"Just that people have—"

"No!" He placed Ginny back on her feet, taking only a moment to ensure she had solid footing before focussing his attention back on Hermione. "The name. What name did you say?"

A creased formed on Hermione's brow. "I told you. Her name was Lara Thurkell."

Draco was quiet for a moment. "Tell me, Granger," he said in a voice of forced calm. "What kinds of records are being kept in this place?"

"Mostly a history of dark artefacts, spells and prophecies. Why?"

"Well, that explains a lot," he muttered, and then he turned and stared hard at Hermione. "And the woman? What did she look like? The one who told you about the archive."

Hermione frowned. "Fair skin. Tall. Brown hair. Blue eyes. She was quite beautiful, really. If I had to guess, I'd say she looked to be about her mid thirties."

Draco cursed under his breath. "I knew it."

"Hold on," Ginny said, widening her eyes. "Are you saying the woman who told Hermione about the archive is the same as—"

"The one my aunt is currently holding prisoner," Draco finished with a nod. "That's exactly what I'm saying. Except when we knew her she went by Lara Selwyn." He cursed again and clenched his hands into fists. "That damn double-crossing witch."

"I don't understand," Hermione said, looking from one to the other. "If the Lara you know is a Death Eater, then why was she dressed up as a nomad and wandering around the Highlands of Scotland four months ago? And why was she going out of her way to help me, one of the condemned Muggle-borns?"

"Perhaps she sensed something," Ginny suggested quietly.

Draco's eyes locked with hers and in that split-second Ginny felt a wave of understanding pass between them. She knew that he, like her, was beginning to realise that Lara must have been planning for this day for a long time—far longer than either of them could have imagined. Such an archive would have presented Lara with a fountain of knowledge—knowledge that a witch with the potential to sense events in the future could use to her advantage. Perhaps Lara had not expected to have been caught by Bellatrix, but there was no doubt that she had found and guided Hermione to this archive for a reason. Ginny just had to wonder why, and what it had to do with the disease that was killing the Muggles.

Not privy to these thoughts, Hermione simply stared at the two of them with a slight frown on her face. "What do you mean she _sensed_ something?"

Draco quickly pulled himself together. "Never mind that now," he said dismissively. "We've wasted enough time talking about this and I for one would like to get out of this damn snow. We're all going to freeze if we stay out here any longer."

Hermione sighed. "You're right," she agreed, defeated by this logic. "Come on, I'll show you the way into the archive. We can make a fire there and get warmed up."

Wrapping the mottled blanket more securely around Pandora, Hermione headed off towards the left side of the building, which still had most of its walls intact. Ginny made no effort to move and continued to ponder over everything she had learned. A part of her felt betrayed, recognising that Lara must have been after Pandora the whole time they had known each other—why else would the brunette have been so fixated on the unborn child's wellbeing, even to the point of risking her own life? But just when Ginny decided that there was no way she could ever trust Lara again, she would remember that it was Lara who had guided Hermione to the archive. Was it possible that the brunette had been trying to save the Muggles and had never been a blood supremacist like the other Death Eaters or was there something more to it? And why had Lara been so determined to bring Pandora into the world, anyway?

Ginny couldn't comprehend any of it, but she had a feeling that someone else did. Frowning, she stared at Draco through shrewd eyes. Hermione might not have noticed it, but Ginny had seen the way his jaw had tightened and how the colour had drained momentarily from his cheeks. Something about this archive had upset him; something that she knew most definitely had to do with Lara and which, it seemed, he was in no hurry to share.

"Think you can walk the rest of the way?" Draco asked, glancing in her direction.

"You're not telling me something," Ginny said bluntly.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I don't tell you a lot of things, Ginevra. Now can you walk the rest of the way or not?"

She pursed her lips. "Fine. Don't tell me, but don't think for a moment that you have me fooled, Draco Malfoy. I've been around you long enough to know when something is troubling you, and I'm telling you now that I don't like it. We're in this together, whether you want to accept it or not. You don't have to shoulder everything alone, you know."

Without waiting for his response, she turned her back on him and stomped after Hermione, teeth clenched in frustration. She hated that even now he still could not trust her. They had been through so much together, but getting under his defences was like trying to carve through marble with a wooden spoon. Yet as Ginny walked she realised that, deep down, she was not upset because he was hiding things from her; she was upset because she was _afraid_ for him. She might not have the sensing powers of Lara, but something in her heart whispered of danger, of pain.

_Damn it, Lara_, Ginny thought, clenching her hands into fists. _What have you been hiding from us?_

**OOOO**

The rat had appeared from out of nowhere. Lara watched it sniff her boot and then take a cautious nibble. For the past fifteen minutes she had been trying to figure out how it had got into her cell. There were no doors, no windows, just four stone walls and a small slit that barely gave enough light or air. But somehow the rat had got in, which meant there was a weak point somewhere in the stone—a flaw that could be used to manipulate the spell keeping her trapped if she was able to concentrate her magic.

"Oh, who am I kidding?" Lara muttered, letting her head fall back with a crack against the wall. "I can barely find the energy to stand, let alone perform wandless magic."

She felt the rat nibble on her boot again and kicked at it half-heartedly. It squeaked at her and then scuttled off into the darkened corner of her cell, disappearing into the stone as if passing through liquid. Lara narrowed her eyes, realising that must be where the flaw was in the masonry, but she was too tired to get up and examine the spot more closely. She'd used up most of her strength just trying to sense what was happening to Draco and Ginny, again to no avail.

A sigh escaped her lips and she closed her eyes, trying to ignore the intense throbbing in her right arm. The wound was a stinking, festering mess now, so stiff and swollen that she could barely lift the limb. She'd have to do something about that soon if she wanted to stop the infection from spreading to her bloodstream, as she had already resigned herself to the fact that the Death Eaters were not going to heal her. She might be acting as bait, but that didn't mean she had to be alive. All Bellatrix needed was for Draco to come to Lara's rescue; if he found a rotting corpse then so be it. The result would still be the same.

Lara frowned and rubbed a hand over her face, smearing the blood and grime that coated her skin. Time was running out. If Bellatrix got hold of Draco and forced him to unleash the magic inside of him then it was all over; there would be no saving him and the fate she had sensed for the blond would finally come to pass. She didn't even want to consider what would happen if Bellatrix got hold of the child. There was a reason the prophecy had been labelled after that fabled story.

"Pandora's Box," Lara murmured, closing her eyes as she pictured the familiar scroll with its intricate drawings in her mind.

It was the prophecy that had intrigued her the most as a young girl. The archive where she had grown up had been a treasure-trove of records and spells, but she had always come back to that prophecy, enchanted and disturbed by the words the Seer had spoken and which had then been transcribed by her ancestors. A woman, bound by the magical number seven, would be cursed by the poison of a jade snake. From her womb a terrible power would grow, which, when released into the world, would bring about the destruction of all things good and pure. That is what the scroll had stated, except Lara had sensed even as a child that there was more to this prophecy. The words, so darkly scribed, were also incomplete. There were always two sides to a coin—two paths one could take to create a destiny.

Pandora's Box was dangerous, but there was hope hidden somewhere inside its dark depths as well.

So her journey to unravel the mysteries of the prophecy had begun. However, it wasn't until the archive was attacked when she was thirteen and the Nemesis Stone stolen from the vaults that she realised the prophecy was already falling into place. Someone was trying to create the Jade Snake; someone wanted to awaken Salazar's curse and purify the world anew with a veil of blood. It was sheer luck that the person who had betrayed their sect to the Dark Lord had not known about Pandora's Box. No, that secret was hers to whisper in Voldemort's ear, helping her to gain his favour and establish a permanent place by his side—the beginnings of her own revenge.

It had been all too easy to guide him towards her desired path, but then she had miscalculated. She had not foreseen that Bellatrix would betray her master. She had not foreseen that Voldemort would hide a piece of his soul inside Harry Potter. Now, unless she managed to get out of this cell, sixteen years of careful planning were about to be thrown down the drain. There would be no stopping Bellatrix from getting her way, unless—

"Ah, yes," Lara whispered, opening her eyes and smiling a little. "The Muggle-born."

She had acted on impulse that day she had given the coordinates for the archive to the witch named Hermione Granger. Perhaps a part of her had always sensed that she might need a trump card, but only time would tell if her instincts had been right to trust that particular witch. Of course, it was time that Lara no longer had.

Her arm gave another violent throb, momentarily blinding her with pain. Gritting her teeth, Lara rolled up her sleeve and removed the bandage to bare the festering wound. Even now, the smell made her want to retch. She swallowed hard, knowing what she had to do.

"Merlin, give me strength," she whispered under her breath.

Deliberately, she thrust her fingers into the wound, forcing the healing skin to split open and allow the pus and blood to ooze out in a putrid mess. A half-choked cry escaped her throat, and she could taste the metallic tang of blood from where she had bit her tongue. It seemed like every nerve in her arm was being assaulted with the most unbearable agony, yet still she tore and squeezed at the wound, knowing it was the only way to ease the swelling. There was a chance she would just worsen the infection since her fingers were hardly sterilised, but that was a risk she had to take. She just hadn't thought it would be such an excruciating experience.

"Oh, gods," Lara gasped, looking away in an attempt to stop herself from gagging.

The smell, the pain, the disgusting intermingle of blood and pus—it was all too much. She wanted to curl up and die, and she could already feel the black dots swarming around her head, blurring her vision and filling her ears with a disorientating ringing. Her body was too weak for this.

"Hey!" someone shouted. "What the hell are you doing?"

Lara looked up dizzily and saw a slender young man with hazel eyes rush towards her. Dimly, she recognised him as Theodore Nott, but then the ringing in her ears got louder as the pain overwhelmed her nervous system, and suddenly she was falling—falling into an abyss of nothingness that seemed to have no end.

_I won't give up_, she thought. _I won't_.

But her body continued to fall, and then there was only darkness.


End file.
